Anya Barton Book Four: The Masks We Wear
by crossMIRAGE19
Summary: For Anya Barton, the summer leading to her Fourth Year was a time of changes. Counting the appearance of Death Eaters at the Quidditch World Cup, a new teacher by the name of Mad-Eye that seems to know too much, start of the Triwizard Tournament, Harry being a Champion, meeting new allies - forgot to say Harry's in the Tournament as a Champion? Nothing's the same.
1. Freedom

DING DONG! DING DONG!

I groaned and rolled over my comfy bed.

DING! DONG! DING! DONG! DI –

I hit the table.

The clock stopped ringing.

I lifted up myself with my elbows a little groggily. I blinked slowly and stared around my new room.

The room was about the same size as the girl's dormitory at Hogwarts. The walls are covered in a very soft beige tapestry with lilies and red roses dangling here and there. It seemed like I was just a mixture over the wall. The bed was king sized with honey colored blankets that combined with the crimson curtains. All this reminded me of the only place I've called home.

And so, I am very grateful to Natasha.

You may be wondering what the hell I am talking about. Well, let's start with my name.

I am Anya Barton, but my friends like to call me Annie or Anne. Three years ago, I lived on St. Louise's Orphanage for girls in Kingston, were I lived the worst years of my life. Mrs. Darcy, a cold hearted woman, was always biased when it came to me. Everyone, like her, called me _freaky Anne _because I could do thing nobody could. Hence, I didn't have friends at all.

Only Nat, the redhead cleaning lady in that time, was kind towards me.

But one lonely day on St. Louise's changed all my life.

An old man with strange dress – or like I know now – robes, appeared on the doorstep of that damned place. He was Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster to one of the most amazing schools I ever had heard of.

Yet, he knew who I really was.

I am a witch. He was a wizard. And he offered me a place to study on Hogwarts.

Since then, he gained my respect and I call him Mr. Dumbledore.

I discovered something more too. Natasha already knew of the Wizarding World. She's a squib, a person born from wizard parents that doesn't do magic. Or is she..?

In King's Cross, I met a girl named Hermione Granger. She was a Muggleborn, but did know a lot more of magic than me. She was (and still is) my best friend.

After an evil person, Professor Quirrell, set off a troll on the dungeons, we were rescued by two boys. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter.

My friendship with them was a little rocky, and it still is.

That first ear, we tried to protect the Sorcerer's Stone from Voldemort. (Please don't gasp at the name) he's an evil wizard that killed Harry's parents and my mum, Serena "Ren" Barton nee Black.

In our second year, Voldemort tried to make me and Ginny Weasley kill Muggleborn wizards. During this time, I discovered I am Parseltongue.

In our third year, mass murderer Sirius Black, my uncle, escaped from Azkaban, the most warded magical prison known in history. We mistakenly thought that he had betrayed Harry's parents and let his own sister die.

But at the end of the year, we found out who the real traitor was.

His name was Peter Pettigrew. He was supposed to be one of the Marauders. A loyal friend.

But he sell them to Voldemort to save his arse.

Pettigrew escaped and hence, uncle Sirius is still the mass murderer everyone had heard.

Ron and I had been exchanging letters, expressing only to ourselves our guilt. Hermione already had demonstrated that she didn't think it was our fault. We don't know what would be Harry's expression, so we didn't mention this to him at all.

I limped slowly toward the full length mirror and looked at me silently.

My brown hair was larger than I had remembered. Nearly fell past my waist. I grew a little bit taller this year.

My hazel eyes scanned all my body. There were intimate parts that had grew this week. I almost blushed myself when I noticed it, but then again, who's seeing me?

Sighing, I grabbed my blue backpack to get some clothes.

I decided to use a yellow shirt with blue jeans short and black sandals.

Finished, I scanned the room with sharp eyes. There were a lot of boxes I hadn't noticed yesterday.

We just moved yesterday night here. Natasha still needed to finish some paperwork on this and I had to return a week to St. Louise's.

_Nobody talked to me nor spared me a glance. They were starting to get the idea of me leaving, and they were practicing by ignoring me. That's what Carol said, but I don't give a damn about like I would before._

_That day I had slowly walked around the small room that I once had called sanctuary. All my drawings were already packed. The photo of my parents was securely been guarded on my trunk. _

_Those objects only demonstrated that I once lived here. Without them, all was… plain. Dull. No life._

_As I walked to the door, I noticed a familiar lock on it. _

"_Guess I am going to miss you," I whispered. Maybe this was getting too much to my head._

_I walked down the small hallway on the second floor, passing a furious Carol without even taking a look at her. Other girls like Jenna, a tall girl with reddish hair, or Miki, a half Korean-Japanese girl with short hair and big brown eyes, looked at me silently from their doors._

_I know what they were wondering. How did she manage to get out first? The freak, no less?_

_I go down the stairs, each step giving a little squeak._

"_Barton?" a voice called me. I turned around and saw the baby blue eyes of Marie, a sweet girl and the only one who hadn't treated me harshly._

_I raised an eyebrow at her. Marie shifted uncomfortably on her spot, looking up, to her side and finally to me._

"_I just wanted to say congratulations," she said. "Even if we didn't talk much, I know this is what you wanted."_

_I stared at her. Marie had watched me?_

"_I hope you have luck with Miss Rosenberg, she seems nice enough."_

_I nodded. I was turning around to go to Mrs. Darcy's office when –_

"_Anya!" I stopped dead. I could hear Marie's breath from here. It was the first time she had called me by name._

"_Will I see you again?" she asked timidly._

_I gaped at her. Marie was asking that? Did she really was saying if I was going to return? Did she ask out of fear, or she really was curious?_

"_Do you want to?" I asked her._

_She seemed to doubt, but she nodded her head in acceptance._

_I smiled. The first smile I had ever gave to one of the girls here. Marie seemed taken aback of my action but she didn't comment on it._

"_Then our paths would surely cross again," with those words, I went to Darcy's office, leaving an unofficially stunned Marie on the stairs._

* * *

"_Well, everything seems to be in order," Darcy's voice was slightly cheerful. She was doing the same smile she did when a girl finally got adopted. Yet, I knew that she was only happy to get rid of me._

_Natasha, for some unknown reason, had quit her job just we returned. That confused me. Actually, all of this was confusing me. The important Darcy rules of adoption clearly specified and I quote:_

_Only couples can adopt a beautiful girl._

_The couple has to have a specific and well-off job (meaning be rich). _

_I tried to remind Nat of these rules, but to my surprise, she only smiled mischievously and walked rather confidently inside the office._

_An hour later of only signing here and there, everything was finished._

_I was free._

"_Everything ready?" asked Natasha, pulling on her coat._

"_Yes, I didn't have much anyway," I said._

_Mrs. Darcy had accompanied us to the doorstep, a grand new smile wandering on her face._

_I frown. That's just tad weird. Darcy never really looks that happy when someone is adopted. _

"_Have a good life, Anya!" she called waving at us._

_I stopped dead in my tracks. Something wasn't right._

_With a frown on my face, I followed Natasha through the gates._

"_How did it go? It worked?" a truly cheery voice asked._

_It was a young woman that looked to be in his mid-twenties. She was wearing ripped jeans and a red black t-shirt with the words "The Weird Sisters" written across. She had a black robe on slightly open. But what most attracted my attention was her electric blue hair._

"_Wotcher," she greeted me. "You must be Anya. I am Tonks, your cousin."_


	2. New Home

**Than you so much for reading! I didn't thought there would be people reading this. It makes my heart ache of hapinness. For those that had been in the very beginning, like Ali or The Elo, I send you bear hugs and a million of thanks.**

**You know, I had been thinking. I found out a lot of_ the Marauders read the Harry Potter Books _and I had been seeing on my head, planning to do one of those with my OC characters. You know, Anya, the Bartons, Natasha. But I dont have the mind of a Marauder, saddly that means I couldn't do one of those stories.**

**"Sigh" Well, let the chapter begin. Sorry if is too short.**

* * *

_I had the sudden urge to ask from where she had appeared._

"_Pardon me?" I said instead. A cousin? I thought Sirius was the only family I had got left._

_To my surprise, her hair turned a bright shade of pink. _

_I gasped._

"_Oh, sorry. Guess that was too quick." She smiled sheepishly. "I'm Nymphadora Tonks. But you _never," _her hair turned a deep dark red, color that matched Nat's hair,_ "ever_ call me Nymphadora, Tonks is fine."_

_I nodded numbly, staring transfixed at her hair._

"_You say you're my cousin?" I asked utterly confused._

_Tonks nodded eagerly, her hair turning blue again._

"_Yep, from your mother's side. My mum and your mum were first cousins, but mum was disowned by marrying my father, Ted."_

"_Why?" We started walking on the sidewalk around the gates of St. Louise's. I could hear Natasha's light steps behind us._

"_Because he's Muggleborn."_

"_Oh," I said lamely._

_We continued walking. I was confused and excited at the same time. I was free. I wasn't going to return to that Orphanage, or get beaten up by Darcy._

_Now, the real question here was, where we were going?_

"_So, did it work then?" asked Tonks again. _

_Natasha smirked. I looked between both women. What were they talking about?_

"_Marvelously," chuckled Nat, "that was quite a Cheering Charm. Made Darcy look into the bright side. Too much for my taste, in fact."_

_They both laughed._

_I stopped behind them but they continued walking._

"_You used magic on Darcy?" I exclaimed. Shaking my head, I hurried my step to catch them._

"_What?" Nat shrugged innocently. "I was just being cautious with the old hag."_

_Tonks laughed merrily in agreement. "And Miss Rosely here," she pointed an accusing finger at the scowling redhead, "asked help to her favorite friend who happens to be an expert on these things!"_

_It looked like it was right on cue, but Tonks suddenly stumbled on her feet and if Nat hadn't grasped her elbow, I think my cousin would have ended on the pavement._

"_You're such a klutz!" it was the first time I had ever hear Nat laughing happily. I only had seen her smile, chuckle or frown, almost in the same time. But it seemed that Tonks brought out the funny side of her._

"_I know, that's why you like me."_

_It was a really strange afternoon. That same day, I learned from Tonks she was a Metamorphmagus. People with the ability to change their appearance at will. She even demonstrated it by transforming herself in the carbon copy of Natasha, leaving an angry redhead because of her imitations._

_I must admit, it was quite hilarious._

_But then she Apparated us._

_I still think the same I thought the first time I Apparated with Mr. Weasley. I don't enjoy it._

_When we landed on safe ground, I looked around us._

_We had appeared in a large field of corn. Everything was very ... yellow._

_The sunset was more prominent here than in Hogwarts, giving the field a golden glow._

_As we walked upwards the hill, I noticed that I wasn't mistaken at all._

_There rested a small two-floor house made of wood and painted _yellow_, except for the railing that was white. _

_When we entered, oh, how was I shocked. I returned outside to see if I was seeing wrong, but there was no mistake._

_The entrance hall had a very high ceiling and the other rooms were bigger, way bigger than the Gryffindor common room. In front of me were some large stairs that lead to the second floor. To my left, was apparently the living room that had a big red chimney. To my right was the dinning room, a room smaller than the first one._

"_Your things are upstairs," Natasha said. "Third door to the left."_

_I nodded, grabbing my blue backpack with me._

_As I headed upstairs, I could very well hear the hushed voices of Nat and Tonks._

_The walls had some series of drawings I couldn't understand. Were they simbols?_

_When I arrived I saw four door to the right hall and another four to the left._

_They were too closer for my taste. I mean, was there enough space for me to fit? Even the bedroom on St. Louise's was a little bigger._

_When I opened the third door, I gaped. It was a lot bigger than the room on the Orphanage! Almost the same as the girl's dormitories! In fact, it looked the same. Except there was only one bed here._

_I yawned. I felt so sleepy._

_Shrugging my backpack off, I went directly towards the bed and only took off my shoes._

_The moment my head hit the pillow, I was dead asleep._


	3. Ancestors

Already dressed, I made my way down to the kitchen.

Maybe it was because I was tired yesterday, but I noticed much more things on the walls.

Like paintings, and like any magical one, it moved. I think my favorite one is one of a beautiful pixie dancing in circles around a big colored like the sunset tree. In the walls above the stairs, were moving pictures. I had to rest my back carefully on the stairs to see the ones glued on the ceiling. Some were big, others too small for me to see.

The first one starting from the top of the stairs had two beautiful woman smiling at me. Intertwined arms, their background was a peaceful tree. The lady on the left had straight black hair with some green hair lights: her eyes were extremely extravagant. A mix of blue, green and amber. Her smile was kind.

The woman on the left gazed at me with a cocky smirk, her own mix of purple and silver eyes holding a mischievously glint. Her hair was flowing around her like a golden veil, her own locks of blue matching the sky.

And it continued like that. As I walked slowly downstairs, different people appeared in the photographs, looking slightly similar at the two woman from the first photo. The only difference were their eyes. All of them had unique mixes of colors on their own, never repeating the cycles. It seemed as the eyes were the thing that made them be their selves.

It was then that I reached the final family portrait that made me take a sharp intake of breath.

My attention wasn't on the older woman that had light brown hair like mine and blue cerulean eyes with green specks on them. Nor the couple with brown and red hair with another set of mixed eyes on her left side.

I stared longingly at the two teenagers in front of them.

In front of the couple was a redhead girl with blue greenish eyes, a somewhat smirk at the corner of her lips, having both arms crossed on her chest. It was odd to see that reaction on her, seeing as I just had seen a more calm state on her.

She was a young Natasha Rosenberg.

Around her shoulders was an arm that belonged to a boy. He was very tall for his age. His eyes were light brown with green and amber specks on. His skin was almost an eerie white that remarkably outstands the tanned skins of the others. He was laughing. A laugh that seemed to bring warm on the photo's background. Yet, as I stared at him, he seemed to have this childlike mind, not knowing what was going to happen in the next years of his life, not knowing that a war was going to begin on his era, not knowing that he was going to marry the daughter of one of the darkest families the Wizarding World had known, not knowing he was going to lost his friends in one Halloween night, or that he was going to die in the hands of a raving lunatic.

Alec Barton playfully made bunny fingers behind Natasha's head.

Dunno how much time was I seated in the first step of the stairs, staring at my father sadly.

The old grandfather clock had chimed four times, but I still wasn't sure what the time was.

"We were fourteen then," I jumped. Turning around, I saw Nat standing there with a sad expression on her face. She was wearing a baggy t-shirt and a white apron with blue jeans and black shoes. "See those behind me? They are my parents. Vladimir Rosenberg and Alana Reese." She smiled sadly. "I reckon they would have loved you."

"What happened to them?" I asked quietly.

She ran a hand through her hair, taking a seat next to me.

"The dark times just had begun," she started, a gloomy expression forming on her face, "I myself don't remember it quite well. Dumbledore gathered every wizard he could on our side, trying to stop Voldemort's –" I looked at her surprised. I didn't know she wasn't afraid of his name, "followers. Each day they grew stronger, but so we did. A group was created, but –" she scrunched her face in thought, "I don't remember how it's called anymore. Anyway, between those people were Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew," she scrunched her nose in disgust, "the Potters, James and Lily, the McKinnon's, the Longbottoms, the Bartons, and my parents, the Rosenbergs."

Natasha was looking somehow lost. But why?

"My parents were on guard with Marlene McKinnon one night. Apparently they were ambushed by Death Eathers. That's how his followers called themselves. Marlene's family was wiped off. No survivors at all. But I know who killed my mum and dad." Her tone turned bitter. "He was Travers. One of the most insane wizards of the lot. He was always polite before he killed someone, like if it was a very simple matter of a job."

"And she?" I pointed to the woman behind my father, but I had a very good idea whom she was.

Nat smiled again. "Your grandmother, Karina Barton. She was kind to everyone, always thought there was good on every soul. She was killed around your father's sixth year." She glanced at me. "Your dad was a mess. Thought that life didn't matter anymore. She was his last family and said that _he_ didn't matter."

I frown. "What made him change his mind then?" because he didn't go off to get himself killed…not yet.

"Your mum," she laughed, "I still remember what Ren did. It was another day of brooding for Alec. Ren couldn't take it anymore, so she walked deadly to the table and slapped him hard. In the Great Hall, in front of the teachers, even Professor Dumbledore."

"She said "Life still goes on. We may lost important people on the way, but the important thing to remember is this: the most difficult task to do is live on this world. So live for her, Alec. Don't make your mum's sacrifice be in vain. Please, live, for me." And they started dating and eventually married."

I chuckled. That was really funny.

"Hey!" a sudden thought entered my mind. "How do you know where this happened? Or exactly what? I mean, you didn't even went to Hogwarts!"

Nat's face suddenly paled. She was looking more conflicted than I had ever seen her.

"I – I don't know." She shook her head. Looking behind her to the other portraits.

"You and my dad seemed to know each other," I started. "Why didn't you tell me you apparently knew him? Didn't you thought that I needed to know more about me? The truth perhaps?"

Natasha stared off in a daze.

"I'm not sure," she mumbled.

She looks so lost I couldn't even try to snap at her.

"The please answer this," I pointed to all the portraits, "Who are they?"

Natasha paused a little, smiled, and looked up above us. I saw the portrait of the two woman again.

"They are our ancestors. Madeline Barton and Isobel Rosenberg."

"Ours?"

"The Bartons and the Rosenbergs are old families of American wizards. Or like they liked to call us, Wiccan people. Our name was always put first because of heritage. Madeline had a son –" she pointed to the next painting where a handsome brunette man stared at us with an arm around a blond woman, "- that married Isobel's daughter. You could say we are long forgotten cousins or something like that. This place," she motioned a hand to the room, "is the Barton – Rosenberg Manor. Or just Wiccan Manor."

I nodded, staring at the eyes of my – just recently discovered – ancestors.

"You noticed that too, right?" Natasha still stared at the portrait of where it just began. "Poets always said that our eyes are windows to our soul. Our family took it quite literally. See, the colors never had to repeat, is a signature of our magic. But –" she looked over at me with raised eyebrows, "You broke the rules. You inherited your father's colors. It wasn't supposed to happen." A sigh. "Then again, they could probably change when you are of age or sooner."

We both went silent. The only sound I could hear was the birds happily chirping outside the door.

"So, in another words, we are just a big messed up family."

Natasha smirked and let out a chuckle.

"You can say that again."


	4. Venetian Mask

**I would like to say something.**

**Beatrix Hart I want to thank you for the comment you made about the Black family. In fact, that seriously confuses me, sorry if I offended you someway. Is going to be corrected, but I still want to thank you properly.**

**Don't worry DexG23, I too didn't knew who the Marauders were until I re-read the Shriecking Shack scene. The Marauders were a group of friends that caused mischief and pranks on Hogwarts conformed by James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew.**

**Once this said, let the chapter carry on!**

* * *

Two days later I received a very interesting and outraging letter.

_Dear Annie,_

_Not much has happened since we left Hogwarts. Sorry, but I don't know what to say. In fact, I need a huge favor. Remember my cousin Dudley?_

How could I forgot him? He stared creepily at me in our first meeting.

_He got fatter and his school's nurse said he needed to lose some weight. He's now on a diet. But Aunt Petunia__, t__o make Dudley feel better about it all, insisted that the whole family follows the new regimen too._

_Believe it or not, I am too considered of the family now. _I could imagine Harry's sarcastic tone on this_. But you know how they__ hate me. _

Yes, I knew. Between some point in our stay in the Leaky Cauldron last year, Harry had told me how his life was with the Dursleys. How he was treated, how he didn't have friends because his cousin terrified the other kids, and even what they had to do only to not let Harry get his Hogwarts letter.

And in exchange I told him all my life in St. Louise's. Including the time one perverted tried to touch me when I was little and he got blown away.

I continued to read the letter, skipping some parts because Harry started babbling. And I was near the end until –

–_they are starving me._

_Can you please send some food?_

I gaped at this. They. Are. Starving him?!

"Is this true?" I gasped to the beautiful snowy owl perched on the kitchen's window.

Hedwig was Harry's companion for the summer. She was on of the most intelligent animals I had ever met. She shook her head vigorously but stopped when she saw Caleb, my small grey owl that was hooting happily into his dinner plate. Her amber eyes narrowed.

I quickly darted between the cabinets looking each inside of them. I pulled out random pockets while the two owls watched me amusedly.

"Um, Anne?"

Natasha stood on the two doors frame looking slightly alarmed as to why all the food was being put on the counter.

"What are you doing?"

I came back from the low cabinets and got a pack of bread, chips and some other things.

"It's Harry," I panted.

She raised one perfect eyebrow.

"Harry Potter?"

I gasped nodding, going on for another cabinet.

"What's wrong with him?"

"They are starving him!" I yelled, marching to another cabinet.

Natasha blinked several times and crossed her arms.

"Explain that."

I tossed her the letter and looked through the food. What do I sent him? Will the bread bother him? Or should I send him cereal?

I continued this way until I noticed that Nat was too quiet for my like. Looking over at her, I saw her bemused expression, her lips shut tightly, the corners of her mouth slowly lifting up. She was looking like she wanted to laugh so badly.

"What?" I snapped at her.

Nat let out a snort.

"Oh, nothing," she smirked, "nothing at all. Tell me," she grabs a jar of Butter, "did you almost destroy my kitchen because of Harry?"

"Didn't you read the letter?" I sighed exasperated, gently ruffling Hedwig's feathers. "He needs help. His own family is starving him!"

Nat looked out the window and sighed, putting the jar on the counter besides the other packages of food.

"I have something it could help."

I turned sharply at her.

"Really?" a smile started stretching on my face.

Nat nodded and went towards the other side of the room, where the oven was. She knocked the wall above it three times and it opened. A secret compartment.

She pulled out a wooden box and laid it on the counter between us. Opening it, she pulled out five small boxes.

"That's it?" I glanced at them skeptically, "little boxes?"

Nat rolled her eyes.

"This are emergency food boxes. You just say what you want to eat and when you open it, ta-da! Food service."

I grabbed one of them. This small box could do that much?

"Why I haven't I seen them in Diagon Alley if they are so special? I mean, something like this would cost a fortune!"

Nat rolled her eyes again and let out a un-lady snort.

"Because they _are_ special. These boxes where created for the Marauders when they were on the run. Specifically, for Lily and James."

"Who made them?"

"Your mum and dad."

I froze. They invented this?!

"What? Didn't think they had the mind for it? For nothing they were the mischievous Blitz nor the Golden Boy."

I send those five boxes to Harry, warning that they only worked once, so he had to use them well.

* * *

The month passed by greatly, my birthday arriving sooner.

To my surprise, this year I received presents. Don't get me wrong, I had received gifts in Christmas, but I had only received one present for my birthday. My dear little owl Caleb, from Natasha. I had discovered however, that the owl had been a present from Sirius, as he too sent one owl very similar to Ron as an apology.

Hermione sent me a book called _A Discovery of Witches. _It really set me off laughing, seeing as it explained what Nat explained from my family. Ron knowing my promptly and newest obsession with chocolates, sent me a big box of them. Mrs. Weasley made a birthday cake of chocolate with the draw of a butterfly. Tonks bought me a hand-sized crystal ball. I asked her why for, but she only shrugged and said it could be useful. Nat gave me a Muggle wrist-watch. Neville Longbottom, my more new closer friend, sent me a beautiful flower that resembled a lily but its color was transparent, making it look like shaped crystal, named _the Lunar Crystal_. Neville is a Herbology expert and loves the subject.

Harry send a letter with an apology for not buying me a present, but in turn send me a birthday card like I had done the last year to him. I was touched. It wasn't beautiful but it somehow let me smiling like if the Cheering Charm was casted on me.

The next day however, was the best of the summer.

I was on my bedroom reading Hermione's book when I heard a high pitched scream downstairs. Alarmed, I bolted upright from my bed and jogged down the stairs until I arrived on the kitchen.

Nat was frozen near the white fridge, clutching a hand to her chest just where her heart is supposed to be. Her eyes were wide saucers.

I followed her stare and I too couldn't help but scream.

Standing still in the dinner table was a big red tropical bird.

I suppose it was a toucan…or maybe a macaw? Or was it a big parrot?

Either way, the tropical bird watched us patiently from his place.

"Nat, how did a tropical bird end here?" I asked unsurely.

She shook her head so quickly that her hair turned very messy. "Do – don't know…" Natasha squeaked.

It turned out that the bird was sent by Sirius. In the letter, uncle Sirius explained he passed a carnival near a beach on a little town somewhere in the South. Disguised in his Animagus form, he took advantage to be on party again, the wedding of his sister, my mother, being the last one he was.

As a birthday present, he sent me a poster from the carnival and a traditional handmade Venetian mask. It was silver with one side slightly painted blue and hand blue and silver linings all over it. Little diamonds around the hole shaped eyes and a blue gem on the forehead.

I noticed the motto on the poster and it slightly made me snort.

_We all wear masks._


	5. Off to the World Cup

_Screams. That was the first thing I could hear. They were scared, everyone was scared._

_Laugh. Mocking laugh, provoked by their sick meaning of fun._

_Fire. Dancing flames around the field. Red and green tents laying destroyed in this pandemonium._

_Masks. White ones. All of them different type, yet all they resembled skulls._

_What they searched? Fun. Sick fun by torturing innocents. Death was their saying. Torturing was their tribute to their Lord –_

"Hellooo? I am back!"

I stopped staring at the crystal ball. I recognized immediately that voice and I couldn't help but chuckle at Tonks. I still don't know how she does it but she manages to get out a playful Nat out of her shell.

I was sitting on the living room waiting besides my blue backpack that was reduced. Ron had sent me a letter a week ago to tell me about the Quidditch World Cup and I gladly accepted to go. Today, the Weasleys were going to pick me up to The Burrow.

I had chosen to wear some yellow t-shirt with a pair of old jeans and a green sweater with my faded Nikes. My long hair was on a ponytail.

I still complain to myself why I had to wake up too early. I mean, the sun hadn't risen yet!

And then Tonks did something that really woke me up.

Something fell from her satchel and it exploded the moment it touched the floor.

Everything was a kind of a blur.

* * *

_Harry's POV_

"Why do we have to be up so early?" I heard Ginny ask as we settled ourselves on the kitchen. I noticed that almost the lot had bags under their eyes and were red from the lack of sleeping.

"We've got a bit of a walk," Mr. Weasley said. He was wearing what appeared in to be a golfing sweater and a very old pair of jeans, slightly too big for him and held up with a thick leather belt.

"Walk?" I asked a little disturbed. "What, are we walking to the World Cup?" that would take us days, wouldn't it?

"No, no, that's miles away," Mr. Weasley said, smiling. "We only need to walk a short way. It's just that it's very difficult for a large number of wizards to congregate without attracting Muggle attention. We have to be very careful about how we travel at the best of times, and on a huge occasion like the Quidditch World Cup-"

"George!" Mrs. Weasley sharply said behind me making me jump.

"What?" George said in an innocent tone that deceived nobody.

"What is that in your pocket?"

"Nothing!"

"Don't you lie to me!"

Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket and said, _"Accio!"_

Several small, brightly colored objects zoomed out of George's pocket; he made a grab for them but missed, and they sped right into Mrs. Weasley's outstretched hand.

"We told you to destroy them!" Mrs. Weasley said furiously, holding up what was unmistakably more Ton-Tongue Toffees. "We told you to get rid of the lot! Empty your pockets, go on, both of you!"

It was an unpleasant scene; the twins had evidently been trying to smuggle as many toffees out of the house as possible, and it was only by using her Summoning Charm that Mrs. Weasley managed to find them all.

_"Accio! Accio! Accio!"_ she shouted, and toffees zoomed from all sorts of unlikely places, including the lining of George's jacket and the turn-ups of Fred's jeans.

"We spent six months developing those!" Fred shouted at his mother as she threw the toffees away.

"Oh a fine way to spend six months!" she shrieked. "No wonder you didn't get more O.W.L.s!"

Our breakfast was filled with tension. Nobody talked after this and Mrs. Weasley still muttered angrily to herself as she hid the Ton-Tongue Toffees in the kitchen's cabinets.

Before we departed, Mr. Weasley asked me and the twins (to save them from their mother's glowering) if we wanted to floo over Annie's place.

They eagerly accepted. I said yes because from the letters I had been trading with her, Annie sounded rather cheerful about her new home.

I envied her for it.

I was first to use the Floo powder.

"Very well then. Harry, shout 'Wiccan Manor' and you will arrive to Anya's place." Said Mr. Weasley. I nodded nervously. Even if I had used the Floo powder before, it still made me nervous.

I steeped over the green flames and shouted "Wiccan Manor!"

I had begun to spin very fast and the Weasleys small living room disappeared out of sight in emerald-green flames.

When I stepped out of the fireplace, the scene in front of me made me gasp.

Behind me, I heard the roaring flames as the twins arrived. I could almost picture them gaping as I was.

"This is heaven!" they chorused in awe.

It was likely that we were on a living room, but I wasn't sure. I could barely distinguish something in here! Grey thick smoke surrounded the air, making me cough up a little. What was happening exactly?

As I squinted through my spectacles, I finally saw something.

Blue, pink, green and violet flashes of light flew across the room.

An orange spark buzzed past my face making me stumble backwards. Trying to grab something, I heard someone squeak!

"Who's there? Tonks?!" a voice yelled coughing. I finally noticed that the something I had grabbed was an arm.

"Oh, this is ridiculous! Not again!" a female voiced from…somewhere.

"Dear Nat, this wasn't supposed to happen, I swear!" another voice squeaked. It sounded younger than the second one. "Well… not yet!" she admitted sheepishly.

"Wicked!" I hear Fred – or was it George? – shout hoarsely.

"Blimey, this is magnificent –"

"– Wonderful, even –"

"– My sincere respect for the one who caused this chaos –"

"Yeah, yeah! We heard you!" snapped the first voice. The smoke cleared a little and I looked down to the arm I still had a hold on. Looking upwards, I found the dusted face of an amused Anne. "Can you clean this?"

"Don't worry," said the third voice cheerfully. I caught sight of something blue from where I heard it. "We –"

The second voice cleared her throat. The smoke cleared a bit and I saw an annoyed redheaded woman glowering to the other corner from where I suppose the final person was.

She kind of reminded of Mrs. Weasley.

"I mean – I will fix it!"

The twins groaned behind me. Annie jumped and looked down to her arm and up to me.

She smiled brightly.

"Hello Harry! Nice of you to drop in here!"

She coughed and waved her free arm above her face.

"Annie, you have positively blossomed over the summer," commented Fred with a bow taking her attention.

"But Fred, it looks like we aren't the only ones that had noticed," said George and the two of them hummed looking over at my hand with smirks.

I quickly let go of her arm feeling the heat starting up from my neck.

I cleared my throat, "Are you ready to go?"

Annie nodded happily. She went towards the redheaded woman, which now that the smoke had cleared better, recognized her. I had seen her in our second year when the diary accident happened. She was Natasha Rosenberg, if I remembered well.

Annie hugged her. "I will come back the day after tomorrow."

"Don't worry," Miss Rosenberg smiled, "Have fun out there."

Annie nodded and went to the other woman. The smoke had let me see her right now. She was tall but what I noticed more was her short spiky electric blue hair.

"See you later, Tonks."

'Tonks' smiled and ruffled Annie's hair fondly.

"You too, cuz'," she smirked but lowered her voice, "Hope that Nat doesn't kill me."

Nobody else hear it because I am sure Miss Rosenberg would have glowered more.

With one last hug, Annie went to a red couch and grabbed her familiar blue backpack.

"Now I am," she smiled at me.

"See you soon, Miss Rosenberg," I said.

To my surprise, Miss Rosenberg smiled fondly at me and waved with affection. I never had seen any stranger do that to me.

"After you milady," the twins chorused.

Blushing, Annie grabbed Floo powder from a vase and went inside the fireplace.

"The Burrow!" and she disappeared.


	6. the Diggory's

_Anya's POV_

I stepped out to the familiar living room of The Burrow.

"Annie dear!" Mrs. Weasley greeted with a kind smile. "My, my. You have grown so much!" she hugged me. I blushed.

"That isn't true…" I mumbled. It wasn't I barely grew up from stature. The other parts instead…

"Anya, how good to see you," Mr. Weasley said as Harry and the twins appeared.

"Likewise, Mr. Weasley," I smiled at him.

"Annie!" I would recognize that voice anywhere. First I saw something bushy and then I was tackled with a hug by Hermione.

"Hey Mione."

"Let her –" yawn, "-breathe, Hermione" Ron's head lolled to one side and snored in Ginny's shoulder.

Ginny shoved his head away.

It seemed everyone was ready to go. But when it was the moment to depart, Mrs. Weasley, for some reason while she kissed her husband's cheek, glowered. Though not nearly as much as the twins, who had each hoisted their rucksacks onto their backs and walked out without a word to her.

"Well, have a lovely time," Mrs. Weasley said, "and _behave yourselves," _she glared at the twins backs. I looked back to her and them in confusion. What was going on? "I'll send Bill, Charlie, and Percy along around midday," Mrs. Weasley said to the rest of us and we followed the twins that didn't look back again.

It was chilly and the moon was still out. Only a dull, greenish tinge along the horizon to our right showed that daybreak was drawing closer.

I was behind with Hermione and Ginny shivering like crazy. I hate mornings.

A few paces away, Harry talked with Mr. Weasley.

"So how _does_ everyone get there without all the Muggles noticing?" he asked.

"It's been a massive organizational problem," Mr. Weasley sighed. "The trouble is, about a hundred thousand wizards turn up at the World Cup, and of course, we just haven't got a magical site big enough to accommodate them all. There are places Muggles can't penetrate, but imagine trying to pack a hundred thousand wizard into Diagon Alley or platform nine and three-quarters. So we had to find a nice deserted moor, and set up as many anti-Muggle precautions as possible. The whole Ministry's been working on it for months. First, of course, we have to stagger the arrivals. People with cheaper tickets have to arrive two weeks beforehand. A limited number use Muggle transport, but we can't have too many clogging up their buses and trains - remember, wizards coming from all over the world. Some Apparate, of course, but we have to set up safe points for them to appear, well away from Muggles. I believe there's a handy wood they're using as the Apparition point. For those who don't want to Apparte, or can't, we use Portkeys. They're objects that are used to transport wizards from one spot to another at a prearranged time. You can do large groups at a time if you need to. There have been two hundred Portkeys placed at strategic points around Britain, and the nearest one to us is up at the top of Stoatshead Hill, so that's where we're headed."

Mr. Weasley pointed ahead of us, where a large black mass rose beyond the village of Ottery St. Catchpole.

"What sort of objects are Portkeys?" Harry wondered.

"Well, they can be anything," Mr. Weasley said. "Unobtrusive things, obviously, so Muggles don't go picking them up and playing with them...stuff they'll just think is litter..."

We trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence broken only by our footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as we made our way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to deepest blue. I could feel my feet throbbing either by the cold or by the long walk. Mr. Weasley checked his watch again.

As we began to climb Stoatshead Hill, I stumbled a lot on the little holes on the ground. I could barely breathe without holding my side.

"Whew," Mr. Weasley panted, taking off his glasses and wiping them on his sweater. "Well, we've made good time - we've got ten minutes..."

Hermione arrive clutching her side behind me.

"Now we just need the Portkey," Mr. Weasley panted, putting his glasses on his face. "It won't be big...Come on..."

I stuck with Hermione as we spread out to search for the Portkey.

"Over here, Arthur!" a voice called out. "Over here, son, we've got it!"

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry sky on the other side of the hilltop.

"Amos!" Mr. Weasley said, smiling as he strode over to the man who had shouted. The rest of us followed.

Mr. Weasley was shaking hands with a ruddy-faced wizard with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a moldy-looking old boot in his other hand.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone," Mr. Weasley said. "He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

How to forget him. Cedric Diggory was the Captain and seeker of the Hufflepuff team. I had met him some times in the library. And I admit this to myself, he's handsome.

"Hi," he said.

I waved smiling a little. But I was the only one. Fred, George and Ron scowled at him, clearly still resented that he won us the last year. Harry looked extremely uncomfortable, while Hermione and Ginny practically swooned over him.

"Long walk, Arthur?" Cedric's father asked.

"Not too bad," Mr. Weasley said. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he's got his Apparition test. Still...not complaining...Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sackful of Galleons - and the tickets cost about that. Mind you, looks like I got off easy..." Mr. Diggory looked at all of us. "All these yours, Arthur?"

"Only the redheads," Mr. Weasley said with a smile as he gestured to Hermione, Harry and me. "This is Hermione and Anya, friends of Ron's —and Harry, another friend-"

"Merlin's beard," Mr. Diggory interrupted. "Harry? Harry _Potter_?"

"Er—yeah," Harry said.

"Ced's talked about you, of course," Mr. Diggory said. "Told us all about playing against you last year...I said to him, I said—Ced, that'll be something to tall your grandchildren, that will..._You beat Harry Potter!_"

I blinked raising an eyebrow. Cedric looked embarrassed enough to say, "Harry fell off his broom, Dad. I told you...it was an accident..."

"Yes, but _you_ didn't fall off, did you?" Mr. Diggory yelled, slapping Cedric on the back, making his own son stumble a little. "Always modest, our Ced, always the gentleman...but the best man won, I'm sure Harry'd say the same, wouldn't you, eh? One falls off his broom, one stays on, you don't need a genius to tell which one's the better flier!"

I think Cedric takes more of his mother than his father's side.

"Must be nearly time," Mr. Weasley said quickly, pulling out his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for any more, Amos?"

"No, the Lovegoods have been there for a week already and the Pawcetts couldn't get tickets," Mr. Diggory said. "There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," Mr. Weasley said. "Yes, it's a minute off...We'd better get ready..."

He looked around at Harry, Hermione, and I.

"You just need to touch the Portkey, that's all, a finger will do -"

With difficulty, owing to our bulky backpacks, the ten of us crowded around the old boot held out by Amos Diggory. We all stood there, in a tight circle, as a chill breeze swept over the hilltop.

Nobody spoke. It suddenly occurred to me how odd this would look if a Muggle were to walk up here now… ten people, two of them grown men, clutching this manky old boot in the semidarkness, waiting…

"Three…" muttered Mr. Weasley, one eye still on his watch, 'two… one…"

It happened immediately: I felt as though a hook just behind my navel had been suddenly jerked irresistibly forward. My feet left the ground; I could feel Harry and Cedric on either side of me, their shoulders banging into mine; they were all speeding forward in a howl of wind and swirling color; my forefinger was stuck to the boot as though it was pulling me magnetically onward and then - my feet slammed into the ground and fell onto my back.

Mr. Weasley, Mr. Diggory, and Cedric were still standing, though looking very windswept; everyone else was on the ground. What a cheaters.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," a voice said.


	7. The Camp

I heard something weird.

I glanced down to my shoes and had to do a double take. Taking them off, I put my hand inside them and I saw my fingers digging outside. They were ripped! The two of them!

I groaned. They were my good tennis shoes. Not to mention my only pair of Running shoes.

"Are you okay?"

I saw Cedric lean towards me with a slightly worried expression. With all my might, I tried to not blush at his attention. Yes, I find him attractive, okay? Don't sue me!

"Besides the fact that I haven't slept well, that I had to walk up to a hill, fell on my butt and my shoes finally expired their use?" I breathed sarcastically. "Yes, I think so."

Cedric looked at me, amused by my ranting.

"Here, let me," he grabbed them both and put them on the grass. I saw withdrawing his wand from his grey sweater. He muttered something and they transformed right into their original form. They looked like if they were just new!

I grabbed them carefully to confirm my suspects. I was right. There were no holes.

"Looks like you are an Ace on Transfiguration," I said. He chuckled.

"Is that a way to say 'thank you'?"

I flushed. I put on my new Transfigured Nikes. He thrusts his hand in front of me. Looking away, I took it and Cedric pulled me up.

"Thanks," I mumbled, still looking anywhere but Cedric.

"It's nothing."

He let go of my hand and walked to his father. I stared after him.

"Friendly with a Hufflepuff?" someone asked giggling on my ear.

I looked over my shoulder and saw Ginny yanking my side and Hermione wrapped her arm on my right side.

I rolled my eyes and pleaded to God that they couldn't see my pink tinged cheeks.

Looking around, I saw we had arrived on what appeared to be a deserted stretch of misty moor. In front of us was a pair of tried and grumpy-looking wizards, one of whom was holding a large gold watch, the other a thick roll of parchment and a quill. Both were dressed as Muggles, though very inexpertly: The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes; his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

Weren't Wizards taught how to blend in as a Muggle to not rise suspections?

"Morning, Basil," said Mr. Weasley, picking up the boot and handing it to the kilted wizard, who threw it into a large box of used Portkeys beside him; I could see an old newspaper, an empty drinks can, and a punctured football.

"Hello there, Arthur," Basil said wearily. "Not on duty, eh? It's all right for some...We've been here all night...You'd better get out of the way, we've got a big party coming in from the Black Forest at five-fifteen. Hang on, I'll find your campsite...Weasley...Weasley..." He consulted his parchment list. "About a quarter of a mile's walk over there, first field you come to. Site manager's called Mr. Roberts. Diggory...second field...ask for Mr. Payne."

"Thanks, Basil," Mr. Weasley said, and he beckoned everyone to follow him.

We set off across the deserted moor, unable to make out much through the mist.

After about twenty minutes, a small stone cottage next to a gate swam into view. Beyond it, I could just make out the ghostly shapes of hundreds and hundreds of tents, rising up the gentle slope of a large field toward a dark wood on the horizon.

We said good-bye to the Diggorys and approached the cottage door.

A man was standing in the doorway, looking out at the tents. By the way he was correctly wearing his Muggle clothes, I can safely say he really is a Muggle.

When he heard our footsteps, he turned his head to look at us.

"Morning!" Mr. Weasley said brightly.

"Morning," the Muggle said.

"Would you be Mr. Roberts?"

"Aye, I would," Mr. Roberts said. "And who're you?"

"Weasley - two tents, booked a couple of days ago?"

"Aye," Mr. Roberts said, consulting a list tacked to the door. "You've got a space up by the wood there. Just the one night?"

"That's it," Mr. Weasley said.

"You'll be paying now, then?" Mr. Roberts said.

"Ah—right—certainly-" Mr. Weasley said. He walked a couple of steps off and pulled Harry with him. I saw him pull out Muggle money and asked Harry about it. I gaped. It was too much money!

"You're foreign?" Mr. Roberts asked.

"Foreign?" repeated Mr. Weasley, puzzled.

"You're not the first one who's had trouble with money," said Mr. Roberts, scrutinizing Mr. Weasley closely. "I had two try and pay me with great gold coins the size of hubcaps ten minutes ago."

"Did you really?" said Mr. Weasley nervously.

Mr. Roberts rummaged around in a tin for some change.

"Never been this crowded," he said suddenly, looking out over the misty field again. "Hundreds of pre-bookings. People usually just turn up…"

"Is that right?" said Mr. Weasley, his hand held out for his change, but Mr. Roberts didn't give it to him.

"Aye," he said thoughtfully. "People from all over. Loads of foreigners. And not just foreigners. Weirdos, you know? There's a bloke walking 'round in a kilt and a poncho."

"Shouldn't he?" said Mr. Weasley anxiously.

"It's like some sort of… I dunno… like some sort of rally," said Mr. Roberts. "They all seem to know each other. Like a big party."

At that moment, a wizard in plus-fours appeared out of thin air next to Mr. Roberts's front door.

_"Obliviate!"_ he said sharply, pointing his wand at Mr. Roberts.

Instantly, Mr. Roberts's eyes slid out of focus, his brows unknitted, and a look of dreamy unconcern fell over his face. I quickly recognized the effects of the spell, as I had once had performed it successfully on Carol before the beginning of our Second Year. His mind was modified.

"A map of the campsite for you," Mr. Roberts said placidly to Mr. Weasley. "And your change."

"Thanks very much," Mr. Weasley said.

Once Mr. Roberts was gone, the man said, "Been having a lot of trouble with him. Need a Memory Charm ten times a day to keep him happy. And Ludo Bagman's not helping. Trotting around talking about Bludgers and Quaffles at the top of his voice not to worry about anti-Muggle security. Blimey, I'll be glad when this is over. See you around, Arthur."

He Disapparated.

"I thought Mr. Bagman was Head of Magical Games and Sports," Ginny said, looking surprised. "He should know better than to talk about Bludgers near Muggles, shouldn't he?"

"He should," Mr. Weasley said, smiling, and led us through the gates into the campsite, "but Ludo's always been a bit...well..._lax_ about security. You couldn't wish for a more enthusiastic Head of the sports department though. He played Quidditch for England himself, you know. And he was the best Beater the Wimbourne Wasps ever had."

We trudged up the misty field between long rows of tents. Most looked almost ordinary; their owners had clearly tried to make them as Muggle-like as possible, but had slipped up by adding chimneys, or bellpulls, or weather vanes. However, here and there was a tent so obviously magical that I could hardly be surprised that Mr. Roberts was getting suspicious. Halfway up the field stood an extravagant confection of striped silk like a miniature palace, with several live peacocks tethered at the entrance.

A little farther on they passed a tent that had three floors and several turrets; and a short way beyond that was a tent that had a front garden attached, complete with birdbath, sundial, and fountain.

"Always the same," said Mr. Weasley, smiling. "We can't resist showing off when we get together. Ah, here we are, look, this is us."

At the end of the tents, there was an empty spot with a sign that said **WEEZLY**.

"Couldn't have a better spot!" Mr. Weasley said happily, not fazed that they couldn't spell his name correctly. "The field is just on the other side of the wood there, we're as close as we could be. Right," Dad said, taking off his backpack, "no magic allowed, strictly speaking, not when we're out in these numbers on Muggle land. We'll be putting these tents up by hand! Shouldn't be too difficult...Muggles do it all the time...Here, Harry, where do you reckon we should start?"

With Hermione and my help's, the four of us (including an overexcited Mr. Weasley) finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents.

All of us stood back to admire our handiwork. Nobody looking at these tents would guess they belonged to wizards. But I spotted something. Wouldn't there be a trouble when Ron's older brothers arrive here and there isn't going to be enough space?

Hermione and Harry seemed to have spotted this problem too; they gave me, and then each other a quizzically look as Mr. Weasley dropped to his hands and knees and entered the first tent.

"We'll be a bit cramped," he called, "but I think we'll all squeeze in. Come and have a look."

I bent down, ducked under the tent flap, and felt my jaw drop. I had walked into what looked like an old-fashioned, three-room flat, complete with bathroom and kitchen. There were crocheted covers on the mismatched chairs and a strong smell of cats.

"Well, it's not for long," Mr. Weasley said, mopping his bald patch with a handkerchief and peering in at the four bunk beds that stood in the bedroom. "I borrowed this from Perkins at the office. Doesn't camp much anymore, poor fellow, he's got lumbago — Ron, get out of the kitchen. We're all hungry," Mr. Weasley yelled. I looked over at the kitchen and saw Ron searching on one of the small cabinets.

"Yeah, get out of the kitchen, Ron!" yelled the twins.

"Feet off the table!" Mr. Weasley yelled to the twins.

"Feet off the table!" the twins called back, taking their feet off the table before putting them right back on. I chuckle.

"Just when I think I'm beyond being shocked by this world, something like this happens," I murmured to myself looking around.

"Tell me about it," Harry agreed behind me.

Mr. Weasley picked up a dusty kettle and peered inside it. "We'll need water..."

"There's a tap marked on this map the Muggle gave us," said Ron once he returned from his bunk. "It's on the other side of the field."

"Well, why don't you, Harry, Hermione, and Anya go and get us some water then" - Mr. Weasley handed over the kettle and a couple of saucepans - "and the rest of us will get some wood for a fire?"

"But we've got an oven," Ron said. "Why can't we just -"

"Ron, anti-Muggle security!" Mr. Weasley said, his face shining with anticipation. "When real Muggles camp, they cook on fires outdoors. I've seen them at it!"

After a quick tour of the girl tent, which was slightly smaller than the boys, though without the smell of cats, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I set off across the campsite with the kettle and saucepans.

Now, with the sun newly risen and the mist lifting, we could see the city of tents that stretched in every direction. We made our way slowly through the rows, staring eagerly around. It was only just dawning on me how many witches and wizards there must be in the world; I had never really thought much about those in other countries.

Our fellow campers were starting to wake up. First to stir were the families with small children. A tiny boy no older than two was crouched outside a large pyramid-shaped tent, holding a wand and poking happily at a slug in the grass, which was swelling slowly to the size of a salami. As we drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent.

"How many times, Kevin? You don't - touch - Daddy's - wand - yecchh! "

She had trodden on the giant slug, which burst. Her scolding carried after us on the still air, mingling with the little boy's yells - "You bust slug! You bust slug!"

A short way farther on, we saw two little witches, barely older than Kevin, who were riding toy broomsticks that rose only high enough for the girls' toes to skim the dewy grass. A Ministry wizard had already spotted them; as he hurried past Harry, Ron, Hermione and me he muttered distractedly, "In broad daylight! Parents having a lie-in, I suppose -"

Here and there adult wizards and witches were emerging from their tents and starting to cook breakfast. Some, with furtive looks around them, conjured fires with their wands; others were striking matches with dubious looks on their faces, as though sure this couldn't work. Three African wizards sat in serious conversation, all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire.

We passed some deep royal blue, majestic purple and scarlet red tents that each of them had the pentagram symbol. As I hear the witches talking from the tents, I guessed they were American-witches. It was confirmed when I saw a banner that said **THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE.**

"Er - is it my eyes, or has everything gone green?" Ron asked.

I shook my head, "Definitely green."

And we were right. We had walked into a patch of tents that were all covered with a thick growth of shamrocks, so that it looked as though small, oddly shaped hillocks had sprouted out of the earth. Grinning faces could be seen under those that had their flaps open. Then, from behind us, we heard our names.

"Harry! Ron! Annie! Hermione!"

It was Seamus Finnigan, our fellow Gryffindor fourth year. He was sitting in front of his own shamrock-covered tent, with a sandy-haired woman who had to be his mother, and his best friend, Dean Thomas, also of Gryffindor.

"Like the decorations?" Seamus asked, grinning. "The Ministry's not too happy."

"Ah, why shouldn't we show our colors?" Mrs. Finnigan said. "You should see what the Bulgarians have got dangling all over _their_ tents. You'll be supporting Ireland, of course?" she added, eyeing us. When we had assured her that we were indeed supporting Ireland, we set off again, not before Dean reminded me of our bet.

Last day of classes, Seamus, Dean and I had made a bet as to what was going to be our teacher in DADA this year. Dean said a vampire, Seamus a Banshee (dunno what's into his obsession with Banshees) and I said an Auror. Aurors were dark-wizard catchers.

"Like we'd say anything else surrounded by that lot," Ron said once we were a safe distance from the Finnigans.

"I wonder what the Bulgarians have got dangling over their tents?" Hermione said.

"Let's go and have a look," Harry said, pointing to a large patch of tents upfield, where the Bulgarian flag - white, green, and red - was fluttering in the breeze.

The tents here had not been bedecked with plant life, but each and every one of them had the same poster attached to it, a poster of a very surly face with heavy black eyebrows. The picture was, of course, moving, but all it did was blink and scowl.

"Krum," Ron said quietly. I looked over at him and found him staring in awe and gaping at the big poster.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Krum!" Ron said. "Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker!"

"He looks really grumpy," Hermione said, looking around at the many Krums blinking and scowling at us.

_" 'Really grumpy'?" _Ron raised his eyes to the heavens. "Who cares what he looks like? He's unbelievable. He's really young too. Only just eighteen or something. He's a _genius_, you wait until tonight, you'll see."

There was already a small queue for the tap in the corner of the field. Harry, Ron, Hermione and me joined it, right behind a pair of men who were having a heated argument. One of them was a very old wizard who was wearing a long flowery nightgown. The other was clearly a Ministry wizard; he was holding out a pair of pinstriped trousers and almost crying with exasperation.

"Just put them on, Archie, there's a good chap. You can't walk around like that, the Muggle at the gate's already getting suspicious –"

"I bought this in a Muggle shop," said the old wizard stubbornly. "Muggles wear them."

"Muggle women wear them, Archie, not the men, they wear these," said the Ministry wizard, and he brandished the pinstriped trousers.

"I'm not putting them on," said old Archie in indignation. "I like a healthy breeze 'round my privates, thanks."

Hermione was overcome with such a strong fit of the giggles at this point that she had to duck out of the queue and only returned when Archie had collected his water and moved away.

"It's a dark day for skirts," I said darkly to Hermione.

Walking more slowly now, because of the weight of the water, we made our way back through the campsite. Here and there, we saw more familiar faces: other Hogwarts students with their families. Oliver Wood, the old captain of Harry's House Quidditch team, who had just left Hogwarts, dragged Harry over to his parents' tent to introduce him, and told him excitedly that he had just been signed to the Puddlemore United reserve team.

Next we were hailed by Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff fourth year, and a little farther on we saw Cho Chang, a very pretty girl who played Seeker on the Ravenclaw team. She waved and smiled at Harry, who slopped quite a lot of water down his front as he waved back grinning.

I suddenly felt my insides boil for no reason.

"Who d'you reckon they are?" I said quickly, pointing to a group of girls. "They don't go to Hogwarts, do they?"

" 'Spect they go to some foreign school," Ron said. "I know there are others. Never met anyone who went to one, though. Bill had a pen friend at a school in Brazil...this was years and years ago...and he wanted to go on an exchange trip but Mum and Dad couldn't afford it. His pen friend got all offended when he said he wasn't going and sent him a cursed hat. It made his ears shrivel up."

"You've been ages," said George when we finally got back to the Weasleys' tents.

"Met a few people," said Ron, setting the water down. "You've not got that fire started yet?"

"Dad's having fun with the matches," said Fred.

Mr. Weasley was having no success at all in lighting the fire, but it wasn't for lack of trying. Splintered matches littered the ground around him, but he looked as though he was having the time of his life.

"Oops!" he said as he managed to light a match and promptly dropped it in surprise.

"Come here, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione kindly, taking the box from him, and showing him how to do it properly.

At last we got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while we waited, however. Our tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for my, Harry, and Hermione's benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.

"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office...Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now...Hello, Arnie...Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator - member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know...and that's Bode and Croaker...they're Unspeakables..."

"They're what?"

"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to..."

At last we got the fire lit, though it was at least another hour before it was hot enough to cook anything. There was plenty to watch while we waited, however. Our tent seemed to be pitched right alongside a kind of thoroughfare to the field, and Ministry members kept hurrying up and down it, greeting Mr. Weasley cordially as they passed. Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary, mainly for my, Harry, and Hermione's benefit; his own children knew too much about the Ministry to be greatly interested.

"That was Cuthbert Mockridge, Head of the Goblin Liaison Office...Here comes Gilbert Wimple; he's with the Committee on Experimental Charms; he's had those horns for a while now...Hello, Arnie...Arnold Peasegood, he's an Obliviator - member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, you know...and that's Bode and Croaker...they're Unspeakables..."

"They're what?"

"From the Department of Mysteries, top secret, no idea what they get up to..."

At last, the fire was ready, and we had just started cooking eggs and sausages when Percy, along with two other older redheads came out of the woods. They presented themselves to me as Charlie and Bill. I had hear of them a lot but never actually met them. It was a bit of a surprise when I saw Bill nearly dressed as a rock star, already had vision him as an older version of Percy. Charlie worked with dragons in Romania, so I wasn't surprised when I felt a few burns on his hands as we shook hands.

We were halfway through our plates of eggs and sausages when Mr. Weasley jumped to his feet, waving and grinning at a man who was striding toward us.

"Aha!" he said. "The man of the moment! Ludo!"

Ludo Bagman was easily the most noticeable person I had seen so far, even including old Archie in his flowered nightdress. He was wearing long Quidditch robes in thick horizontal stripes of bright yellow and black. An enormous picture of a wasp was splashed across his chest. He had the look of a powerfully built man gone slightly to seed; the robes were stretched tightly across a large belly he surely had not had in the days when he had played Quidditch for England. His nose was squashed but his round blue eyes, short blond hair, and rosy complexion made him look like a very overgrown schoolboy.

"Ahoy there!" Bagman called happily. He was walking as though he had springs attached to the balls of his feet and was plainly in a state of wild excitement.

"Arthur, old man," he puffed as he reached the campfire, "what a day, eh? What a day! Could we have asked for more perfect weather? A cloudless night coming… and hardly a hiccough in the arrangements… Not much for me to do!"

Behind him, a group of haggard-looking Ministry wizards rushed past, pointing at the distant evidence of some sort of a magical fire that was sending violet sparks twenty feet into the air.

Percy hurried forward with his hand outstretched. Apparently his disapproval of the way Ludo Bagman ran his department did not prevent him from wanting to make a good impression.

"Ah - yes," said Mr. Weasley, grinning, "this is my son Percy. He's just started at the Ministry - and this is Fred - no, George, sorry - that's Fred - Bill, Charlie, Ron - my daughter, Ginny and Ron's friends, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter and Anya Barton."

Like everyone we had met, Bagman did a double take at Harry's name and his eyes flickered towards his forehead, were rested the shaped lightning bolt that had made Harry famous.

"Everyone," Mr. Weasley continued, "this is Ludo Bagman, you know who he is, it's thanks to him we've got such good tickets -"

Bagman beamed and waved his hand as if to say it had been nothing.

"Fancy a flutter on the match, Arthur?" he said eagerly, jingling what seemed to be a large amount of gold in the pockets of his yellow-and-black robes.

"I've already got Roddy Pontner betting me Bulgaria will score first - I offered him nice odds, considering Ireland's front three are the strongest I've seen in years - and little Agatha Timms has put up half shares in her eel farm on a weeklong match."

"Oh… go on then," said Mr. Weasley. "Let's see… a Galleon on Ireland to win?"

"A Galleon?" Ludo Bagman looked slightly disappointed, but recovered himself. "Very well, very well… any other takers?"

"They're a bit young to be gambling," said Mr. Weasley. "Molly wouldn't like -"

"We'll bet thirty-seven Galleons, fifteen Sickles, three Knuts," said Fred as he and George quickly pooled all their money, "that Ireland wins - but Viktor Krum gets the Snitch. Oh and we'll throw in a fake wand."

"You don't want to go showing Mr. Bagman rubbish like that -" Percy hissed, but Bagman didn't seem to think the wand was rubbish at all; on the contrary, his boyish face shone with excitement as he took it from Fred, and when the wand gave a loud squawk and turned into a rubber chicken, Bagman roared with laughter.

"Excellent! I haven't seen one that convincing in years! I'd pay five Galleons for that!"

Percy froze in an attitude of stunned disapproval.

"Boys," Mr. Weasley said under his breath, "I don't want you betting...That's all your savings...Your mother -"

"Don't be a spoilsport, Arthur!" Ludo Bagman boomed, rattling his pockets excitedly. "They're old enough to knkow what they want! You reckon Ireland will win but Krum'll get the Snitch? Not a chanch, boys, not a chance...I'll give you excellent odds on that one...We'll add five Galleons for the funny wand, then, shall we..."

Mr. Weasley looked on helplessly as Ludo Bagman whipped out a notebook and quill and began jotting down the twins' names.

"Cheers," George said, taking the slip of parchment Bagman handed him and tucking it away into the front of his robes. Bagman turned most cheerfully back to Mr. Weasley.

"Couldn't do me a brew, I suppose? I'm keeping an eye out for Barty Crouch. My Bulgarian opposite number's making difficulties, and I can't understand a word he's saying. Barty'll be able to sort it out. He speaks about a hundred and fifty languages."

"Mr. Crouch?" said Percy, suddenly abandoning his look of poker-stiff disapproval and positively writhing with excitement. "He speaks over two hundred! Mermish and Gobbledegook and Troll…"

"Anyone can speak Troll," said Fred dismissively. "All you have to do is point and grunt."

"Good to know for the next time," I said to him. I shuddered to think about the Trolls we had met. They liked to drool staring at me. It was disturbing.

Percy threw Fred an extremely nasty look and stoked the fire vigorously to bring the kettle back to the boil.

"Any news of Bertha Jorkins yet, Ludo?" Mr. Weasley asked as Bagman settled himself down on the grass beside us all.

"Not a dicky bird," said Bagman comfortably. "But she'll turn up. Poor old Bertha… memory like a leaky cauldron and no sense of , you take my word for it. She'll wander back into the office sometime in October, thinking it's still July."

"You don't think it might be time to send someone to look for her?" Mr. Weasley suggested tentatively as Percy handed Bagman his tea.

"Barty Crouch keeps saying that," Bagman said, his round eyes widening innocently, "but we really can't spare anyone at the moment. Oh - talk of the devil! Barty!"

A wizard had just Apparated at our fireside, and he could not have made more of a contrast with Ludo Bagman, sprawled on the grass in his old Wasp robes. Barty Crouch was a stiff, upright, elderly man, dressed in an impeccably crisp suit and tie. The parting in his short gray hair was almost unnaturally straight, and his narrow toothbrush mustache looked as though he trimmed it using a slide rule. His shoes were very highly polished.

I could see why Percy idolized him. The man practically was the meaning of Muggle impeccability.

"Pull up a bit of grass, Barty," Ludo said brightly, patting the ground beside him.

"No thank you, Ludo," Crouch said, and there was a bite of impatience in his voice. "I've been looking for you everywhere. The Bulgarians are insisting we add another twelve seats to the Top Box."

"Oh is _that_ what they're after?" Bagman said. "I thought the chap was asking to borrow a pair of tweezers. Bit of a strong accent."

"Mr. Crouch!" Percy said breathlessly, sinking into a kind of half-bow that made him look like a hunchback. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

"Oh," Crouch said, looking over at Percy in mild surprise. "Yes - thank you, Weatherby."

I hid my face behind my cup, trying to not giggle at the surname. Meanwhile, Fred and George had choked into their own cups.

Percy, very pink around the ears, busied himself with the kettle.

"Oh and I've been wanting a word with you too, Arthur," said Mr. Crouch, his sharp eyes falling upon Mr. Weasley. "Ali Bashir's on the warpath. He wants a word with you about your embargo on flying carpets."

Mr. Weasley heaved a deep sigh.

"I sent him an owl about that just last week. If I've told him once I've told him a hundred times: Carpets are defined as a Muggle Artifact by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects, but will he listen?"

"I doubt it," said Mr. Crouch, accepting a cup from Percy. "He's desperate to export here."

"Well, they'll never replace brooms in Britain, will they?" said Bagman.

"Ali thinks there's a niche in the market for a family vehicle," said Mr. Crouch. "I remember my grandfather had an Axminster that could seat twelve - but that was before carpets were banned, of course."

He spoke as though he wanted to leave nobody in any doubt that all his ancestors had abided strictly by the law.

"So, been keeping busy, Barty?" said Bagman breezily.

"Fairly," said Mr. Crouch dryly. "Organizing Portkeys across five continents is no mean feat, Ludo."

"I expect you'll both be glad when this is over?" Mr. Weasley said.

Ludo Bagman looked shocked.

"Glad! Don't know when I've had more fun...Still, it's not as though we haven't got anything to look forward to, eh, Barty? Eh? Plenty left to organize, eh?"

Mr. Crouch raised his eyebrows at Bagman.

'We agreed not to make the announcement until all the details -"

"Oh details!" Bagman said, waving the word away like a cloud of midges. "They've signed, haven't they? They've agreed, haven't they? I bet you anything these kids'll know soon enough anyway. I mean, it's happening at Hogwarts -"

"Ludo, we need to meet the Bulgarians, you know," Mr. Crouch said sharply, cutting whatever Bagman was going to say. "Thank you for the tea, Weatherby."

He pushed his undrunk tea back at Percy and waited for Ludo to rise; Bagman struggled to his feet, swigging down the last of his tea, the gold in his pockets chinking merrily.

"See you all later!" he said. "You'll be up in the Top Box with me - I'm commentating!" He waved. Barty Crouch nodded curtly, and both of them Disapparated.

"What's happening at Hogwarts, Dad?" Fred said at once. "What were they talking about?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Mr. Weasley said, smiling.

"It's classified information, until such time as the Ministry decides to release it," Percy said stiffly. "My. Crouch was quite right not to disclose it."

"Oh shut up, Weatherby," Fred said.

I couldn't help it. This time we all laughed.


	8. the Game begins

A sense of excitement rose like a palpable cloud over the campsite as the afternoon wore on. By dusk, the still summer air itself seemed to be quivering with anticipation, and as darkness spread like a curtain over the thousands of waiting wizards, the last vestiges of pretence disappeared: the Ministry seemed to have bowed to the inevitable and stopped fighting the signs of blatant magic now breaking out everywhere.

Salesmen were Apparating every few feet, carrying trays and pushing carts full of extraordinary merchandise. There were luminous rosettes - green for Ireland, red for Bulgaria - which were squealing the names of the players, pointed green hats bedecked with dancing shamrocks, Bulgarian scarves adorned with lions that really roared, flags from both countries that played their national anthems as they were waved; there were tiny models of Firebolts that really flew, and collectible figures of famous players, which strolled across the palm of your hand, preening themselves.

"Been saving my pocket money all summer for this," Ron told Harry as they and Hermione and I strolled through the salesmen, buying souvenirs. Though Ron purchased a dancing shamrock hat and a large green rosette, he also bought a small figure of Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker. The miniature Krum walked backward and forward over Ron's hand, scowling up at the green rosette above him. I had also bought two large green rosettes (one for Neville's birthday, mind you) and a scarf with dancing shamrocks.

"Wow, look at these!" Harry said, gesturing to a cart full of something brass and shiny.

"Omnioculars," the saleswizard said. "You can replay action...slow everything down...and they flash up a play-by-play breakdown if you need it. Bargain—ten Galleons each."

I counted the rest of my money. I had only five Galleons left. I sighed. Oh, well, maybe next time.

"Wish I hadn't bought this now," Ron said, looking at his hat.

"Four pairs," Harry said, grinning at us. My eyes widened.

"Harry, you can't. We'll buy our own-" I started not mentioning the fact I _didn't_ have more money, but Harry cut me off.

"Come off it. I didn't even get you a birthday present," he said smiling sheepishly. "Besides, you don't have to have to buy me a Christmas present," he said, shoving the Omnioculars into everyone's hands. "For about ten years, mind."

"Fair enough," said Ron, grinning.

"Oooh, thanks, Harry," said Hermione. "And I'll get us some programs, look -"

Our money bags considerably lighter, we went back to the tents. Bill, Charlie, and Ginny were all sporting green rosettes too, and Mr. Weasley was carrying an Irish flag. Fred and George had no souvenirs as they had given Bagman all their gold.

And then a deep, booming gong sounded somewhere beyond the woods, and at once, green and red lanterns blazed into life in the trees, lighting a path to the field.

"It's time!" said Mr. Weasley, looking as excited as any of us. "Come on, let's go!"

Clutching our purchases, Mr. Weasley in the lead, we all hurried into the wood, following the lantern-lit trail. We could hear the sounds of thousands of people moving around us, shouts and laughter, snatches of singing. The atmosphere of feverish excitement was highly infectious; I couldn't stop grinning. We walked through the wood for twenty minutes, talking and joking loudly, until at last We emerged on the other side and found ourselves in the shadow of a gigantic stadium. Though I could see only a fraction of the immense gold walls surrounding the field, I could tell that ten cathedrals would fit comfortably inside it.

"Seats a hundred thousand," said Mr. Weasley, spotting the awestruck look on our faces. "Ministry task force of five hundred have been working on it all year. Muggle Repelling Charms on every inch of it. Every time Muggles have got anywhere near here all year, they've suddenly remembered urgent appointments and had to dash away again… bless them," he added fondly, leading the way toward the nearest entrance, which was already surrounded by a swarm of shouting witches and wizards.

"Prime seats!" said the Ministry witch at the entrance when she checked our tickets. "Top Box! Straight upstairs, Arthur, and as high as you can go."

The stairs into the stadium were carpeted in rich purple. We clambered upward with the rest of the crowd, which slowly filtered away through doors into the stands to our left and right. Mr. Weasley's party kept climbing, and at last we reached the top of the staircase and found ourselves in a small box, set at the highest point of the stadium and situated exactly halfway between the golden goal posts. About twenty purple-and-gilt chairs stood in two rows here, and I, filing into the front seats with the Weasleys, looked down upon a scene the likes of which I could never have imagined.

A hundred thousand witches and wizards were taking their places in the seats, which rose in levels around the long oval field. Everything was suffused with a mysterious golden light, which seemed to come from the stadium itself. The field looked smooth as velvet from their lofty position. At either end of the field stood three goal hoops, fifty feet high; right opposite us, almost at my eye level, was a gigantic blackboard. Gold writing kept dashing across it as though an invisible giant's hand were scrawling upon the blackboard and then wiping it off again; watching it, I saw that it was flashing advertisements across the field.

_The Bluebottle: A broom for All the Family - safe, reliable, and with Built-in Anti-Burglar Buzzer...Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover: No pain, No Stain!...Gladrags Wizardwear - London, Paris, Hogsmeade..._

I finally tore my eyes away from the sign and looked over my shoulder to see who else was sharing the box with us. So far it was empty, except for a tiny creature sitting in the second from last seat at the end of the row behind us. The creature, whose legs were so short they stuck out in front of it on the chair, was wearing a tea towel draped like a toga, and it had its face hidden in its hands. Yet those long, batlike ears were oddly familiar...

"Dobby?" said Harry incredulously next to me.

I immediately recognized the name. In our second year, Dobby worked for the Malfoys and almost killed Harry trying to warn him about the danger. But Harry ended setting him free.

The tiny creature looked up and put it's hands down from it's face, revealing huge brown eyes and a nose like a large tomato.

"Did sir just call me Dobby?" squeaked the elf curiously from between its fingers. It's voice a teeny, quivering squeak of a voice, and I suspected though it was very hard to tell with a house-elf – that this one might just be female. Ron and Hermione spun around in their seats to look. Even Mr. Weasley looked around in interest.

"Sorry," Harry told the elf, "I just thought you were someone I knew."

"But I knows Dobby too, sir!" squeaked the elf.

She was shielding her face, as though blinded by light, though the Top Box was not brightly lit. "My name is Winky, sir - and you, sir -" Her dark brown eyes widened to the size of side plates as they rested upon Harry's scar. "You is surely Harry Potter!"

"Yeah, I am," said Harry.

"But Dobby talks of you all the time, sir!" she said, lowering her hands very slightly and looking awestruck.

"How is he?" said Harry. "How's freedom suiting him?"

"Ah, sir," said Winky, shaking her head, "ah sir, meaning no disrespect, sir, but I is not sure you did Dobby a favor, sir, when you is setting him free."

"Why?" said Harry, taken aback. "What's wrong with him?"

"Freedom is going to Dobby's head, sir," said Winky sadly. "Ideas above his station, sir. Can't get another position, sir."

"Why not?" said Harry.

Winky lowered her voice by a half-octave and whispered, "He is wanting paying for his work, sir."

"Paying?" said Harry blankly. "Well - why shouldn't he be paid?"

Winky looked quite horrified at the idea and closed her fingers slightly so that her face was half-hidden again.

"House-elves is not paid, sir!" she said in a muffled squeak. "No, no, no. I says to Dobby, I says, go find yourself a nice family and settle down, Dobby. He is getting up to all sorts of high jinks, sir, what is unbecoming to a house-elf. You goes racketing around like this, Dobby, I says, and next thing I hear you's up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, like some common goblin."

"Well, it's about time he had a bit of fun," said Harry.

"House-elves is not supposed to have fun, Harry Potter," said Winky firmly, from behind her hands. "House-elves does what they is told. I is not liking heights at all, Harry Potter" - she glanced toward the edge of the box and gulped - "but my master sends me to the Top Box and I comes, sir."

"Why's he sent you up here, if he knows you don't like heights?" said Harry, frowning.

"Master - master wants me to save him a seat, Harry Potter. He is very busy," said Winky, tilting her head toward the empty space beside her. "Winky is wishing she is back in master's tent, Harry Potter, but Winky does what she is told. Winky is a good house-elf."

She gave the edge of the box another frightened look and hid her eyes completely again. Harry turned back to us.

"So that's a house-elf?" Ron muttered. "Weird things, aren't they?"

"Dobby was weirder," said Harry fervently.

Ron pulled out his Omnioculars and started testing them, staring down into the crowd on the other side of the stadium.

"Wild!" he said, twiddling the replay knob on the side. "I can make that old bloke down there pick his nose again...and again...and again..."

"That's gross, Ron."

Hermione, meanwhile, was skimming eagerly through her velvetcovered, tasseled program.

"'A display from the team mascots will precede the match,'" she read aloud.

"Oh that's always worth watching," said Mr. Weasley. "National teams bring creatures from their native land, you know, to put on a bit of a show."

The box filled gradually around us over the next half hour. Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered.

Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend. They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him.

"Harry Potter, you know," he told the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English.

"Harry Potter… oh come on now, you know who he is… the boy who survived You-Know-Who… you do know who he is -"

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat… Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places… ah, and here's Lucius!"

Harry, Ron, Hermione and me turned quickly. Edging along the second row to three still-empty seats right behind Mr. Weasley were none other than Dobby the house-elf's former owners: Lucius Malfoy; his son, Draco; and Narcissa Malfoy, a former Black. Draco Malfoy and me had been enemies ever since my first journey to Hogwarts. I didn't want to become his friend. A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father. His mother was blonde too; tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she hadn't been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose.

I stared at her. There was something familiar on her…

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic. "How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk - Obalonsk - Mr. - well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And let's see who else - you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

Both men looked at each other. Mr. Malfoy seizing Mr. Weasley up and down.

"Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How - how nice," said Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes had returned to Hermione, who went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him.

I glared at him. I know what he thought of Hermione's blood status, and that he considered her below his family.

But someone else was watching too. I looked behind Malfoy Jr. and saw his mother, Narcissa was it? Staring at me in a disbelieving matter.

Mr. Malfoy sneered without the Minister noticing and his family continued down the line of seats, not before his son shot us a contemptuous look. With one last look, Mrs. Malfoy followed.

"Slimy gits," Ron muttered as he, Harry, Hermione, and I turned to face the field again. Next moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box.

"Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming like a great excited Edam. "Minister - ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," Fudge said comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said _"Sonorus!"_ and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over us, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen...welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

The spectators screamed and clapped. Thousands of flags waved, adding their discordant national anthems to the racket. The huge blackboard opposite us was wiped clear of its last message _(Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans - A Risk With Every Mouthful!)_and now showed **BULGARIA: O, IRELAND: O.**

"And now, without further ado, allow me to introduce...the Bulgarian National Team Mascots!"

The right-hand side of the stands, which was a solid block of scarlet, roared its approval.

"I wonder what they've brought," Mr. Weasley said, leaning forward in his seat. "Aaah!" He suddenly whipped off his glasses and polished them hurriedly on his robes. _"Veela!"_

"What are veel -?"

But a hundred veela were now gliding out onto the field, and Harry's question was answered for him. Veela were beautiful woman with silvery hair. But they were _too_ beautiful to be true. There was something different here. Why their skin shone like moon-bright? Or why their gold- white hair fanned behind them if there wasn't air? Music began playing then and from either side of me, I could hear the boys inhale sharply.

The veela had started to dance. I looked around me and noticed all the boys looked like if they were Obliviated. Blissful even! There was no care in the world that just stare at the dancing veela down on the field, and if they stopped staring, they would cry.

The veela had started to dance and as they danced faster and faster, the man around us, their eyes were glassy. Harry and Ron had stand up and were standing on the wall of the box. Like they were going to jump out of the box.

"Harry, what _are_ you doing?" Hermione shrieked.

Being in the middle of the boys, I quickly grabbed the back of Harry's and Ron's shirts and pulled them both on their seats.

Once safe, they both seemed to jerk back to reality. Music already faded, angry shouts started around the stadium.

I could see Harry was with them; he looked to be questioning why he had a large green shamrock pinned to his chest as he seemed to be switching who he wanted to support. Ron, meanwhile, was absentmindedly shredding the shamrocks on his hat. Mr. Weasley, smiling slightly, leaned over to Ron and tugged the hat out of his hands.

"You'll be wanting that," he said, "once Ireland have had their say."

"Huh?" Ron said, staring openmouthed at the veela, who had now lined up along one side of the field.

Hermione made a loud tut and we both shared a look, _"Honestly!"_

"And now," Ludo Bagman's voice roared, "kindly put your wands in the air...for the Irish National Team Mascots!"

Next moment, what seemed to be a great green-and-gold comet came zooming into the stadium. It did one circuit of the stadium, then split into two smaller comets, each hurtling toward the goal posts. A rainbow arced suddenly across the field, connecting the two balls of light. The crowd oooohed and aaaaahed, as though at a fireworks display. Now the rainbow faded and the balls of light reunited and merged; they had formed a great shimmering shamrock, which rose up into the sky and began to soar over the stands. Something like golden rain seemed to be falling from it -

"Excellent!" Ron yelled as the shamrock soared over us, and heavy gold coins rained from it, bouncing off our heads and seats. Squinting up at the shamrock, I realized that it was actually comprised of thousands of tiny little bearded men with red vests, each carrying a minute lamp of gold or green.

"Leprechauns!" said Mr. Weasley.

"Ooh!" I pulled off my hat and pulled it upside down, trying to catch some coins. I had read somewhere that they disappeared in certain time and I wanted to see if I could do a spell to make them permanently.

Seeing what I did, Ron did the same and grabbed a handful of coins.

"There you go," Ron said, handing Harry some of the gold, "for the Omnioculars! Now you've got to buy me a Christmas present, ha!"

The great shamrock dissolved, the leprechauns drifted down onto the field on the opposite side from the veela, and settled themselves cross-legged to watch the match.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, kindly welcome - the Bulgarian National Quidditch Team! I give you - Dimitrov!"

A scarlet-clad figure on a broomstick, moving so fast it was blurred, shot out onto the field from an entrance far below, to wild applause from the Bulgarian supporters.

"Ivanova!"

A second scarlet-robed player zoomed out.

"Zograf! Levski! Vulchanov! Volkov! Aaaaaaaand - _Krum_!"

"That's him, that's him!" yelled Ron, following Krum with his Omnioculars. I quickly focused my own.

Viktor Krum was thin, dark, and sallow-skinned, with a large curved nose and thick black eyebrows. He looked like an overgrown bird of prey. It was hard to believe he was only eighteen.

"And now, please greet - the Irish National Quidditch Team!" yelled Bagman. "Presenting - Connolly! Ryan! Troy! Mullet! Moran! Quigley! Aaaaaand - Lynch!"

Seven green blurs swept onto the field.

"And here, all the way from Egypt, our referee, acclaimed Chairwizard of the International Association of Quidditch, Hassan Mostafa!"

A small and skinny wizard, completely bald but with a large hairy mustache, wearing robes of pure gold to match the stadium, strode out onto the field. A silver whistle was protruding from under the mustache, and he was carrying a large wooden crate under one arm, his broomstick under the other.

I spun the speed dial on my Omnioculars back to normal, watching closely as Mostafa mounted his broomstick and kicked the crate open - four balls burst into the air: the scarlet Quaffle, the two black Bludgers, and (I saw it for the briefest moment, before it sped out of sight) the minuscule, winged Golden Snitch. With a sharp blast on his whistle, Mostafa shot into the air after the balls.

"Theeeeeeeey're OFF!" Bagman screamed. "And it's Mullet! Troy! Moran! Dimitrov! Back to Mullet! Troy! Levski! Moran!"

It was Quidditch as I had never seen it played before. I was pressing my Omnioculars so hard to my eyes that it was cutting into the bridge of my nose. The speed of the players was incredible - the Chasers were throwing the Quaffle to one another so fast that Bagman only had time to say their names. It was amazing. I was so happy that I could be here! I could just follow the game, so fast.

"TROY SCORES!" roared Bagman, and the stadium shuddered with a roar of applause and cheers. "Ten zero to Ireland!"

"What?" Harry yelled, looking wildly around through his Omnioculars. "But Levski's got the Quaffle!"

"Harry, if you're not going to watch at normal speed, you're going to miss things!" Hermione shouted.

I was too entranced watching the stadium as Troy did a lap of honor around.

I looked quickly over the top of my Omnioculars and saw that the leprechauns watching from the sidelines had all risen into the air again and formed the great, glittering shamrock. Across the field, the veela were watching them sulkily.

I knew enough about Quidditch to see that the Irish Chasers were superb. They worked as a seamless team, their movements so well coordinated that they appeared to be reading one another's minds as they positioned themselves, and the rosette on my chest kept squeaking their names: "Troy - Mullet - Moran!" And within ten minutes, Ireland had scored twice more, bringing their lead to thirty-zero and causing a thunderous tide of roars and applause from the greenclad supporters.

The match became still faster, but more brutal. Volkov and Vulchanov, the Bulgarian Beaters, were whacking the Bludgers as fiercely as possible at the Irish Chasers, and were starting to prevent them from using some of their best moves; twice they were forced to scatter, and then, finally, Ivanova managed to break through their ranks; dodge the Keeper, Ryan; and score Bulgaria's first goal.

"Fingers in your ears!" I heard Mr. Weasley yell to the boys. Hermione, Ginny and I laughed as they plugged their ears when the veela danced.

"Dimitrov! Levski! Dimitrov! Ivanova - oh I say!" roared Bagman. One hundred thousand wizards gasped as the two Seekers, Krum and Lynch, plummeted through the center of the Chasers, so fast that it looked as though they had just jumped from airplanes without parachutes. I followed their descent through my Omnioculars, squinting to see where the Snitch was –

"They're going to crash!" screamed Hermione on Harry's side.

She was half right - at the very last second, Viktor Krum pulled out of the dive and spiraled off. Lynch, however, hit the ground with a dull thud that could be heard throughout the stadium. A huge groan rose from the Irish seats.

"Fool!" moaned Mr. Weasley. "Krum was feinting!"

"It's time-out!" yelled Bagman's voice, "as trained mediwizards hurry onto the field to examine Aidan Lynch!"

"He'll be okay, he only got ploughed!" Charlie said reassuringly to Ginny, who was hanging over the side of the box, looking horror-struck. "Which is what Krum was after, of course…"

I hastily pressed the replay and play-by-play buttons on my Omnioculars, twiddled the speed dial, and put them back up to my eyes. I watched as Krum and Lynch dived again in slow motion. WRONSKI DEFENSIVE FEINT - DANGEROUS SEEKER DIVERSION read the shining purple lettering across my lenses. I saw Krum's face contorted with concentration as he pulled out of the dive just in time, while Lynch was flattened, and I understood - Krum hadn't seen the Snitch at all, he was just making Lynch copy him. Krum now was circling high above Lynch, who was being revived by mediwizards with cups of potion. I focused more closely upon Krum's face, saw his dark eyes darting all over the ground a hundred feet below. He was using the time while Lynch was revived to look for the Snitch without interference.

Lynch got to his feet at last, to loud cheers from the green-clad supporters, mounted his Firebolt, and kicked back off into the air. His revival seemed to give Ireland new heart. When Mostafa blew his whistle again, the Chasers moved into action with a skill unrivaled by anything I had seen so far.

After fifteen more fast and furious minutes, Ireland had pulled ahead by ten more goals.

They were now leading by one hundred and thirty points to ten, and the game was starting to get dirtier. As Mullet shot toward the goal posts yet again, clutching the Quaffle tightly under her arm, the Bulgarian Keeper, Zograf, flew out to meet her. Whatever happened was over so quickly I didn't catch it, but a scream of rage from the Irish crowd, and Mostafa's long, shrill whistle blast, told me it had been a foul.

"And Mostafa takes the Bulgarian Keeper to task for cobbing — excessive use of elbows!" Bagman informed the roaring spectators. "And - yes, it's a penalty to Ireland!"

The leprechauns, who had risen angrily into the air like a swarm of glittering hornets when Mullet had been fouled, now darted together to form the words "HA, HA, HA!" The veela on the other side of the field leapt to their feet, tossed their hair angrily, and started to dance again.

I looked down and laughed. I tugged on Hermione's sleeve and pointed it out to her. She started giggling.

"Look at the referee!"

Hassan Mostafa had landed right in front of the dancing veela, and was acting very oddly indeed. He was flexing his muscles and smoothing his mustache excitedly.

"Now, we can't have that!" said Ludo Bagman, though he sounded highly amused. "Somebody slap the referee!"

A mediwizard came tearing across the field, his fingers stuffed into his own ears, and kicked Mostafa hard in the shins. Mostafa seemed to come to himself; I, watching through the Omnioculars again, saw that he looked exceptionally embarrassed and had started shouting at the veela, who had stopped dancing and were looking mutinous.

"And unless I'm much mistaken, Mostafa is actually attempting to send off the Bulgarian team mascots!" said Bagman's voice. "Now there's something we haven't seen before… Oh this could turn nasty…"

It did: The Bulgarian Beaters, Volkov and Vulchanov, landed on either side of Mostafa and began arguing furiously with him, gesticulating toward the leprechauns, who had now gleefully formed the words "HEE, HEE, HEE." Mostafa was not impressed by the Bulgarians' arguments, however; he was jabbing his finger into the air, clearly telling them to get flying again, and when they refused, he gave two short blasts on his whistle.

"Two penalties for Ireland!" shouted Bagman, and the Bulgarian crowd howled with anger. "And Volkov and Vulchanov had better get back on those brooms… yes… there they go… and Troy takes the Quaffle."

Play now reached a level of ferocity beyond anything they had yet seen. The Beaters on both sides were acting without mercy: Volkov and Vulchanov in particular seemed not to care whether their clubs made contact with Bludger or human as they swung them violently through the air. Dimitrov shot straight at Moran, who had the Quaffle, nearly knocking her off her broom.

"Foul!" roared the Irish supporters as one, all standing up in a great wave of green. "Foul!" echoed Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice. "Dimitrov skins Moran - deliberately flying to collide there - and it's got to be another penalty - yes, there's the whistle!"

The leprechauns had risen into the air again, and this time, they formed a giant hand, which was making a very rude sign indeed at the veela across the field. At this, the veela lost control. Instead of dancing, they launched themselves across the field and began throwing what seemed to be handfuls of fire at the leprechauns. Watching through his Omnioculars, I saw that they didn't look remotely beautiful now. On the contrary, their faces were elongating into sharp, cruelbeaked bird heads, and long, scaly wings were bursting from their shoulders –

"And that, boys," yelled Mr. Weasley over the tumult of the crowd below, "is why you should never go for looks alone!"

Hermione, Ginny and I nodded in unison at this.

Ministry wizards were flooding onto the field to separate the veela and the leprechauns, but with little success; meanwhile, the pitched battle below was nothing to the one taking place above. I turned this way and that, staring through my Omnioculars, as the Quaffie changed hands with the speed of a bullet.

"Levski - Dimitrov - Moran - Troy - Mullet - Ivanova - Moran again - Moran - MORAN SCORES!"

But the cheers of the Irish supporters were barely heard over the shrieks of the veela, the blasts now issuing from the Ministry members' wands, and the furious roars of the Bulgarians.

The game recommenced immediately; now Levski had the Quaffle, now Dimitrov - The Irish Beater Quigley swung heavily at a passing Bludger, and hit it as hard as possible toward Krum, who did not duck quickly enough. It hit him full in the face.

There was a deafening groan from the crowd; Krum's nose looked broken, there was blood everywhere, but Hassan Mostafa didn't blow his whistle. He had become distracted, and I couldn't blame him; one of the veela had thrown a handful of fire and set his broom tail alight.

"Time-out! Ah, come on, he can't play like that, look at him -" Ron exclaimed looking at an injured Krum.

_"Look at Lynch!"_ Harry yelled.

For the Irish Seeker had suddenly gone into a dive, and I was quite sure that this was no Wronski Feint; this was the real thing…

"He's seen the Snitch!" Harry shouted. "He's seen it! Look at him go!" Half the crowd seemed to have realized what was happening; the Irish supporters rose in another great wave of green, screaming their Seeker on… but Krum was on his tail. How he could see where he was going, I had no idea; there were flecks of blood flying through the air behind him, but he was drawing level with Lynch now as the pair of them hurtled toward the ground again –

"They're going to crash!" shrieked Hermione.

"They're not!" roared Ron.

"Lynch is!" Harry and I yelled.

And we were right - for the second time, Lynch hit the ground with tremendous force and was immediately stampeded by a horde of angry veela.

"The Snitch, where's the Snitch?" bellowed Charlie, along the row.

"He's got it - Krum's got it - it's all over!" shouted Harry.

Krum, his red robes shining with blood from his nose, was rising gently into the air, his fist held high, a glint of gold in his hand.

The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match.

"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS — good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

I blinked in disbelief at the twins. They were right?

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"He knew they were never going to catch up!" Harry shouted back over all the noise, also applauding loudly. "The Irish Chasers were too good… He wanted to end it on his terms, that's all…"

"He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess…"

I put my Omnioculars to my eyes again. It was hard to see what was happening below, because leprechauns were zooming delightedly all over the field, but I could just make out Krum, surrounded by mediwizards. He looked surlier than ever and refused to let them mop him up. His team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected; a short way away, the Irish players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending from their mascots.

Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn.

"Vell, ve fought bravely," said a gloomy voice behind me. I looked around; it was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"You can speak English!" said Fudge, sounding outraged. "And you've been letting me mime everything all day!"

"Veil, it vos very funny," the Bulgarian minister shrugged. I snorted.

"And as the Irish team performs a lap of honor, flanked by their mascots, the Quidditch World Cup itself is brought into the Top Box!" Bagman roared.

My eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, I saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge, who was still looking very disgruntled that he'd been using sign language all day for nothing.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; I could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in our direction.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. I noticed that he seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.

And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. My hands were numb with clapping.

At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Confolly's, clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "Quietus."

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that… shame it couldn't have lasted longer… Ah yes… yes, I owe you… how much?"

For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.

Who would say one of their crazies thoughts were right?


	9. Running from this Nightmare

"_Don't_ tell your mother you've been gambling," Mr. Weasley told Fred and George as we made our way down the steps of the Top Box.

"Don't worry, Dad, we've got big plans for this money. We don't want it confiscated," Fred said gleefully.

Mr. Weasley looked for a moment as though he was going to ask what these big plans were, but seemed to decide, upon reflection, that he didn't want to know.

We were soon caught up in the crowds now flooding out of the stadium and back to their campsites. Raucous singing was borne toward us on the night air as we retraced our steps along the lantern-lit path, and leprechauns kept shooting over our heads, cackling and waving their lanterns. When we finally reached the tents, nobody felt like sleeping at all, and given the level of noise around us, Mr. Weasley agreed that we could all have one last cup of cocoa together before turning in.

Fred and George were now dancing around the tent pretending to be Irishmen as they sang an Irish sounding song. Ron however, couldn't let Krum go and kept chanting his name along with the song.

Then Ron stepped up on a low table. "There is no one like Krum!"

"Krum?" "Dumb Krum?" the twins asked before starting to walk about the tent like big apes and clumsy birds as they mumbled; "Dumb Krum!"

"He's like a bird, the way he rides the wind," Ron continued. "He's more than an athlete… he's an artist!"

"I think you're in love, Ron," I smiled serenely as I walked past him.

"Oh shut up," Ron muttered, glaring at me.

But the twins wouldn't let it go.

"_Viktor, I love you! Viktor, I do_!"

Then Harry and I joined in happily, Harry and me grabbing each other and trying to do a version of a barn dance. We danced awfully, may I add.

"_When we're apart my heart beats only for you_!" ending with a small pirouette.

And we continued doing this, the twins mocking Krum, Ron trying to argue Krum was practically an artist on Quidditch, Harry and me dancing and chanting the same song, and Hermione watching us amusedly.

It was then that when Ginny fell asleep right at the tiny table and spilled hot chocolate all over the floor that Mr. Weasley called a halt to the verbal replays and insisted that everyone go to bed. Hermione, Ginny, and I went into the next tent. We changed into our pajamas and clambered into our bunks. From the other side of the campsite we could still hear much singing and the odd echoing bang.

I fell right asleep.

* * *

Suddenly a voice was shouting to get up.

"Get up! Ginny - Hermione - Anya come on now, get up, this is urgent!"

I quickly got up half awake, half asleep and put on my Nikes.

I knew something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed. The singing had stopped. I could hear screams, and the sound of people running. I grabbed my jeans and pulled my wand out before I snagged my jacket. Judging by Mr. Weasley's tone, I knew I didn't have time to do much else. Mr. Weasley himself had pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas and he was just telling Ginny there wasn't time to change. "Come on girls, just grab a jacket and get outside - quickly!"

Doing as we were told, we hurried out of the tent, Mr. Weasley at our heels.

By the light of the few fires that were still burning, I could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward us, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward us; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. I squinted at them...They didn't seem to have faces... they had – masks?

_I already had seen this._

I paled. These were the faceless men of my "visions". First time I saw them, they were surrounding a boy. But here, there was no boy. And the second one –

It was happening now.

High above the men, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air.

Two of the figures were very small. More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice I saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming growing louder.

The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and I recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children. One of the marchers below flipped Mrs. Roberts upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

I numbly went to stand next to the boys. Hermione and Ginny standing next to me. I just stared in disgust.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side. "That is really sick…"

"This is madness…" I whispered. "So twisted…" I covered my mouth with two hands. I couldn't stand it. They were hurting them!

At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. "You lot - get into the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.

"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood. Harry, Ron, Hermione, George and me followed. We all looked back as we reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; we could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around us in the cold night air.

I felt myself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces I could not see. But someone suddenly slammed into me, making me stumble. I fell back and onto the ground, getting the wind knocked out of me and probably a few new bruises.

"Anya!" yelled Hermione.

I could hear them all yelling after me, but I couldn't see anything through the mass of legs, let alone get up. But a foot suddenly shot down onto my hand and I cried in pain. I quickly turned into a ball myself. I could feel when people tripped over me, kicked me and kneed me hard. I had shut my eyes closed.

It was a while when it finally stopped. I tried to stand up but I fell upfront when I pain shot in my left ankle. I looked down. It seemed I had twisted it, or maybe from many people had stepped on it had let it stunned.

Getting up a bit, I tried to hold on to the tree trunk without blinking in pain. I grabbed my wand tightly.

There was nothing I could see in this darkness than the shape of the trees. There was no Hermione, no Harry, and no Ron around.

I sighed at my bad luck. It had to happen now, right?

I limped to tree over tree, not wanting to use the Lumos spell in this darkness. If the masked men were still around the woods, the light would probably beacon them to me.

As quietly as I could, I tried to not whimper. How much time I spent walking through the woods, I don't know.

But then I hear the rustle of the bushes. I stood still, my breath slowing and my heart racing mile per hour. Holding onto the nearest tree, I tried to do myself invisible as possible.

The rustles sounded closer for my liking. Risking a chance, I raised my head and peaked out an eye.

I could see the shape of a man through the shadows.

He was turning around wildly, as if he was afraid to be caught. From the masked men maybe?

But the more I stared, the more I became aware that he looked slightly…off. Mad, perhaps.

He had a dark energy emerging out of him.

Cautious, I took a step back –

CRACK!

I froze and looked down. I had stood on a broken branch.

Snapping my head upwards, I was met with piercing deep cold blue eyes. The man gave three steps, letting the moonlight hit his face. He looked to be in his earlier thirties, blond hair, and by his features I could have the guess he had been handsome in some point of his life.

His crazed eyes stared at me, widening further at my sight. I looked at myself and swore lowly. The moonlight let me be visible.

"Impossible!" he yelled frantically. Trembling, he took shaky steps over me.

I, of course did the most stupid thing. I ran.

Running through the darker woods with an injured ankle was a pain in the arse. I could hear the man's running steps behind me as I turned every corner – err, tree – to lose him.

And then I felt a hand close onto my mouth.


	10. My savior?

I squirmed a little on my place. _This was NOT happening!_

"_Don't move."_

I stopped dead. I continued to hear the rustle of the bushes and the raged breath of the man. A moment of silence. With a small yell, the man continued his way and ignored us.

I gave out a sigh of relief, but suddenly perked up remembering my savior. Turning around I was met by the sight of a pair of silver eyes with – brown specks on them?

I took more on his appearance. He was tall,_ taller_ than me, almost catching up with Ron. His hair was dark, black coal that shined brightly in the moonlight.

In other words, this boy was handsome.

Ignoring my checking him out, the boy looked still on the way the man had run.

Deciding everything seemed fine, the boy sighed and looked over at me.

"Are you alright?" his voice was somewhat soft like velvet.

Breathing hardly still from the run, I nodded.

"Can you walk?"

How did he figure my ankle was injured, I didn't know, but I still tried to move it and I was greeted by pain.

I hissed.

"That means a no, I suppose," he chuckled. Turning around, he kneeled on the ground.

I stared confused.

"Come on," he turned his head a little to see me, "I'm going to carry you."

Dunno why, but this stranger had something familiar I couldn't place. Shrugging the feeling off, I carefully slid on his back, wrapping my arms on his neck. He grabbed my legs and wrapped them around his torso, being careful of not grab my ankle. And like if I weighted like a feather, he stood up easily.

He carried me on silence. We didn't talk, but this silence didn't feel awkward like the ones with Harry or Ron, even Neville.

"What were you doing alone on the woods?" he said casually.

"Got separated from my friends," I said in the same tone. "What about you?"

"We're on the same boat," he smiled dryly. "I came with my school and Death Eaters appeared."

"Death Eaters?"

"The dark cloaked men with the skull masks," he explained, "they were supposed to be Voldemort's loyal servants or something. That's why all the camp went mad."

"Oh," I blinked. "Hey, did you just say Voldemort's name?"

"Well, yeah," he said in a tone like 'duh', "You did too right know."

I flushed. "Sorry, I don't hear many wizards say Voldemort's name aloud." _Except Harry and Mr. Dumbledore._

"I always thought it was stupid to fear a name."

I chuckled. "Right you are."

How weird. I was talking to a stranger like if I had known him all my life.

"So what's your name, stranger?" I asked him a little cheerfully.

"Stranger, huh? I am no one," he said. I frowned.

"Of course you're someone! Otherwise, if you weren't, how would you have been able to save from that man?" he didn't say anything. "If you don't want to tell me your name, I will call you stranger, so with that, you'll be someone."

He ignored my comment and continued walking.

"I'm Anya. Anya Barton," he still didn't say anything.

I felt a little sad. I had talked cheerfully to him, a thing I don't do always, and he ignores me. Maybe I offended him without knowing?

Soon enough, we reached the edge of the woods and saw a large crowd of wizards looking ill-frightened whispering among each other.

Thank god they ignored us and we walked to the campsite. Silence was the sight that greeted us. There weren't Death Eaters around anymore, but a few tents were still smoking.

"Dad, what's going on?" a voice called through the dark. "Fred, George, and Ginny got back okay, but the others -"

"I've got Harry, Hermione and Ron here," said Mr. Weasley hurriedly. "I'm going to return to the woods. Anya wasn't with them."

"I'm coming –" I heard Hermione say.

"No, you three stay here –"

"She's my friend and I am going to search for her!"

"There's no need to," I finally saw the Weasley's tent and through the darkness I could barely see Charlie pointing at us.

"Annie!" Three voices exclaimed in relief.

"What happened?" Mr. Weasley quickly hurried over us.

"I twisted my ankle," I told him sorrowfully. It sounded lame, now that I thought it.

My savior still known as stranger carefully kneeled on the ground and I got off his back,

"It was very generous of you, um…" Mr. Weasley trailed off. By now, everyone was outside the tent watching him curiously. The stranger's eyes fell on a little redhead and he somewhat looked a little dizzy.

"Leo…" he murmured quite dumbly. "The name's Leo."

He shook his head and turned to look at Mr. Weasley. Hermione had slipped to my side and supported me by holding onto her.

"Well, _Leo_," Mr. Weasley didn't ask his surname, "I thank you for helping Anya here. I'm not sure what would be of her…"

'Leo' and I shared and awkward look. We had the idea of 'what' could have happened if he hadn't appeared.

"Don't worry, sir," 'Leo' smiled. There was the familiar thing again. That smile of his… I could swear I had seen it somewhere! "I'm sure she could have handled herself," and he shot a wink to me.

I flushed. This boy changes his moods faster than a Firebolt! Was he bipolar or something?

"Not to be rude but, I am off," 'Leo' sheepishly scratched his hand, "My friends must be worried."

Mr. Weasley nodded reassuringly. "I'm sure they are. Thank you again, young man."

'Leo' nodded. With a last look to us and a long one to Ginny, he disappeared through the mess of tents.

"Let's get you seated," mumbled Hermione, grabbing my arm and seating me on one of the chairs on the kitchen.

"Did you get them, Dad?" said Bill sharply. "The person who conjured the Mark?"

"No," said Mr. Weasley. "We found Barry Crouch's elf holding Harry's wand, but we're none the wiser about who actually conjured the Mark."

"What?" said Bill, Charlie, and Percy together.

"Harry's wand?" said Fred.

"Mr. Crouch's elf?" gasped Percy quite awfully.

Mr. Weasley (with the help of Harry, Ron and Hermione) explained to us what happened on the woods.

"Well," Percy said when they had finished, "Mr. Crouch is quite right to get rid of an elf like that! Running away when he'd expressly told her not to...embarrassing him in front of the whole Ministry...how would that have looked, if she'd been brought up in front of the Department for the Regulation and Control-"

"She didn't do anything—she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time!" Hermione interrupted sharply. I looked surprised at her. She was the only one of us that on got well with Percy.

"Hermione, a wizard in Mr. Crouch's position can't afford a house-elf who's going to run amok with a wand!" Percy insisted.

"She didn't run amok!" Hermione shouted. "She just picked it up off the ground!"

"Look, can someone just explain what that skull this was?" Ron asked. "It wasn't hurting anyone...Why's it such a big deal?"

"I told you, it's You-Know-Who's symbol, Ron," Hermione said. "I read about it in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_."

"And it hasn't been seen for thirteen years," Mr. Weasley said quietly. "Last time it has been seen…" he stopped uncomfortably and he looked out of the corner of his eye at me. I paled. What did that meant? "Of course people panicked. It was almost like seeing You-Know-Who back again."

"I don't get it," said Ron, frowning. "I mean… it's still only a shape in the sky…"

"Ron, You-Know-Who and his followers sent the Dark Mark into the air whenever they killed," said Mr. Weasley. "The terror it inspired… you have no idea, you're too young. Just picture coming home and finding the Dark Mark hovering over your house, and knowing what you're about to find inside…" Mr. Weasley winced. "Everyone's worst fear… the very worst."

I stared off at nowhere. That sign only appeared when someone died. Did it appear when my mum, or my dad, died?

"Well, it didn't help us tonight, whoever conjured it," said Bill, checking over his cut. "It scared the Death Eaters away the moment they saw it. They all Disapparated before we'd got near enough to unmask any of them. We caught the Roberts's before they hit the ground, though. They're having their memories modified right now."

"Death Eaters?" said Harry. "What are Death Eaters?"

I completely blocked out Bill's answers as I already hear it from 'Leo'.

"Yeah, I bet it was!" Ron's sudden outburst snapped my head towards him. "Dad, we met Draco Malfoy in the woods, and he as good as told us his dad was one of those nutters in masks! And we all know the Malfoys were right in with You-Know-Who!"

Malfoy was on the woods?

"But what were Voldemort's supporters -" Harry began. Everybody but me flinched. "Sorry," said Harry quickly. "What were You-Know-Who's supporters up to, levitating Muggles? I mean, what was the point?"

"The point?" said Mr. Weasley with a hollow laugh. "Harry, that's their idea of fun. Half the Muggle killings back when You-Know-Who was in power were done for fun. I suppose they had a few drinks tonight and couldn't resist reminding us all that lots of them are still at large. A nice little reunion for them," he finished disgustedly.

"But if they were the Death Eaters, why did they Disapparate when they saw the Dark Mark?" said Ron. "They'd have been pleased to see it, wouldn't they?"

"Use your brains, Ron," said Bill motioning with his hands to his head. "If they really were Death Eaters, they worked very hard to keep out of Azkaban when You-Know-Who lost power, and told all sorts of lies about him forcing them to kill and torture people. I bet they'd be even more frightened than the rest of us to see him come back.

They denied they'd ever been involved with him when he lost his powers, and went back to their daily lives… I don't reckon he'd be over-pleased with them, do you?"

"So… whoever conjured the Dark Mark…" said Hermione slowly, "were they doing it to show support for the Death Eaters, or to scare them away?"

"Your guess is as good as ours, Hermione," said Mr. Weasley. "But I'll tell you this… it was only the Death Eaters who ever knew how to conjure it. I'd be very surprised if the person who did it hadn't been a Death Eater once, even if they're not now… Listen, it's very late, and if your mother hears what's happened she'll be worried sick. We'll get a few more hours sleep and then try and get an early Portkey out of here."

He told us to go to sleep. But it wasn't that hearing Ginny's soft snores and Hermione's heaving breathing didn't let me slept but more like today's events.

Why Death Eaters came? For fun?

The man on the woods, he seemed to know me, but from where?

And most importantly of all, why did I felt comfortable with 'Leo'? Did he fancied Ginny at first sight? Who really was he?

Asking me a lot this, I fell asleep.


	11. Return to the Burrow

Mr. Weasley woke us after only a few hours sleep. He used magic to pack up the tents, and we left the campsite as quickly as possible, passing Mr. Roberts at the door of his cottage. Mr. Roberts had a strange, dazed look about him, and he waved us off with a vague "Merry Christmas."

"He'll be all right," Mr. Weasley said quietly as we marched off onto the moor. "Sometimes, when a person's memory's modified, it makes him a bit diorientated for a while...and that was a big thing they had to make him forget."

We heard urgent voices as we approached the spot where the Portkeys lay, and when we reached it, we found a great number of witches and wizards gathered around Basil, the keeper of the Portkeys, all clamoring to get away from the campsite as quickly as possible. Mr. Weasley had a hurried discussion with Basil; we joined the queue, and were able to take an old rubber tire back to Stoathead Hill before the sun had really risen. We walked back through Ottery St. Catchpole and up the damp lane toward the Burrow in the dawn light, talking very little because we were so exhausted, and thinking longingly of our breakfast. As we rounded the corner and the Burrow came into view, a cry echoed along the lane.

"Oh thank goodness, thank goodness!"

Mrs. Weasley, who had evidently been waiting for us in the front yard, came running toward us, still wearing her bedroom slippers, her face pale and strained, a rolled-up copy of the Daily Prophet clutched in her hand. Behind her, followed a very worried-looking redhead woman.

"Arthur - I've been so worried - so worried-"

Mrs. Weasley flung her arms around Mr. Weasley's neck, and the _Daily Prophet_ fell out of her limp hand onto the ground. Looking down, I saw the headline: _SCENES OF TERROR AT THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP_, complete with a twinkling black-and-white photograph of the Dark Mark over the treetops.

Natasha reached me quickly and gave me a big hug.

"I leave you out of my sight for one day and you almost get killed," she said softly. I flung my arms around her torsos and gave her a soft laugh.

"I'm fine, don't worry."

"You're all right," Mrs. Weasley muttered distractedly, releasing Mr. Weasley and staring around at us all with red eyes, "you're alive...Oh _boys_..."

And to everybody's surprise, she seized Fred and George and pulled them both into such a tight hug that their heads banged together.

_"Ouch!_ Mum - you're strangling us -"

"I shouted at you before you left!" Mrs. Weasley said, starting to sob. "It's all I've been thinking about! What if You-Know-Who had got you, and the last thing I ever said to you was that you didn't get enough O.W.L.s? Oh Fred...George..."

Nat and I chuckled at the scene.

"Come on, now, Molly, we're all perfectly okay," Mr. Weasley said soothingly, prising her off the twins and leading her back toward the house. "Bill," he added in an undertone, "pick up that paper, I want to see what it says..."

When we were all crammed into the tiny kitchen, and Hermione had made Mrs. Weasley a cup of very strong tea, into which Mr. Weasley insisted on pouring a shot of Ogdens Old Firewhiskey, Bill handed his father the newspaper. Mr. Weasley scanned the front page while Percy looked over his shoulder.

"I knew it," Mr. Weasley said heavily. _"Ministry blunders...culprits not apprehended...lax security...Dark wizards running unchecked...national disgrace_...Who wrote this? Ah...of course...Rita Skeeter."

"Explains all, doesn't it?" Natasha scowled at the paper.

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" Percy said furiously. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out vampires! As if it wasn't _specifically_ stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans -"

"Do us a favor, Perce," Bill said, yawning, "and shut up."

We all nodded in agreement.

"You're mentioned Arthur," Nat mentioned, saying a quiet 'thank you' to Hermione when she offered her a cup of tea, "Not by name, but it says something a the bottom."

"If I'd seen that, I'd have known you were alive!" Mrs. Weasley spluttered, choking on her tea and whiskey.

"Listen to this: _'If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the wood expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen.'_ Oh really," Mr. Weasley said in exasperation, handing the paper to Percy. "Nobody _was_ hurt. What was I supposed to say? _Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods_...well, there certainly will be rumors now she's printed that."

He heaved a deep sigh. "Molly, I'm going to have to go into the office; this is going to take some smoothing over."

"I'll come with you, Father," Percy said importantly. "Mr. Crouch will need all hands on deck. And I can give him my cauldron report in person."

He bustled out of the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley looked most upset.

"Arthur, you're supposed to be on holiday! This hasn't got anything to do with your office; surely they can handle this without you?"

"I've got to go, Molly," Mr. Weasley said. "I've made things worse. I'll just change into my robes and I'll be off..."

"Mrs. Weasley," said Harry suddenly, "Hedwig hasn't arrived with a letter for me, has she?"

"Hedwig, dear?" said Mrs. Weasley distractedly. "No… no, there hasn't been any post at all."

Ron, Hermione and me looked curiously at Harry. With a meaningful look at the three of us he said, "All right if I go and dump my stuff in your room, Ron?"

"Yeah… think I will too," said Ron at once. "Hermione?"

"Yes," the three of them looked at me. I looked over at Nat.

"I would like to talk with Molly," she said casually. "Anne, why don't you join them?"

I nodded and the four of us marched out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"What's up, Harry?" Ron asked, the moment we had closed the door of the attic room behind us.

"There's something I haven't told you," Harry said. "On Saturday morning, I woke up with my scar hurting again."

Hermione gasped and started making suggestions at once, mentioning a number of reference books, and everybody from Albus Dumbledore to Madam Pomfrey, the Hogwarts nurse. Ron simply looked dumbstruck. I stared at him with a thoughtful face, running through a lot of ideas as to why that happened

"But - he wasn't there, was he? You-Know-Who? I mean - last time your scars kept hurting, he was at Hogwarts, wasn't he?"

"I'm sure he wasn't on Privet Drive," said Harry. "But I was dreaming about him… him and Peter - you know, Wormtail. I can't remember all of it now, but they were plotting to kill… someone."

I frowned at him. Harry was going to say 'me', but it seemed he didn't want to scare us. Not that I blame him, Hermione had an horrified face and if he just said it, she would have a heart attack.

"It was only a dream," Ron said bracingly. "Just a nightmare."

"Yeah, but was it, though?" Harry said, turning to look out of the window at the brightening sky. "It's weird, isn't it…? My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again."

"Don't - say - his - name!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth. I rolled my eyes at him.

"And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, ignoring Ron. "At the end of last year?"

Professor Trelawney was our Divination teacher at Hogwarts. Hermione's terrified look vanished as she let out a derisive snort.

"Oh Harry, you aren't going to pay attention to anything that old fraud says?"

"You weren't there," Harry said. "You didn't hear her. This time was different. I told you, she went into a trance - a real one. And she said the Dark Lord would rise again… greater and more terrible than ever before… and he'd manage it because his servant was going to go back to him… and that night Wormtail escaped."

There was a silence in which Ron fidgeted absentmindedly with a hole in his Chudley Cannons bedspread.

"Why were you asking if Hedwig had come, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Are you expecting a letter?"

"I told Sirius about my scar," said Harry, shrugging. "I'm waiting for his answer."

"Good thinking!" said Ron, his expression clearing. "I bet Sirius'll know what to do!"

"I hoped he'd get back to me quickly," said Harry.

"But we don't know where Sirius is… he could be in Africa or somewhere, couldn't he?" said Hermione reasonably.

"Venice, actually," I said. They looked over at me. "He always sends a clue to where he is. If I'm not wrong, he was heading to Spain."

"See, Hedwig's not going to manage that journey in a few days," Hermione sighed.

"Yeah, I know," Harry mumbled looking over the window.

"Come and have a game of Quidditch in the orchard, Harry," said Ron. "Come on - three on three, Bill and Charlie and Fred and George will play… You can try out the Wronski Feint… "

"Ron," said Hermione, in an I-don't-think-you're-being-very-sensitive sort of voice, "Harry doesn't want to play Quidditch right now… He's worried, and he's tired… We all need to go to bed…"

"Yeah, I want to play Quidditch," said Harry suddenly. "Hang on, I'll get my Firebolt."

Hermione left the room, muttering something that sounded very much like "Boys."

Rolling my eyes, I followed her.


	12. More secrets?

After that, Nat and I returned to Wiccan Manor.

Tonks continued to visit us daily now, being quite hilarious the days. There wasn't an ounce of silence, but that just made my summer the best one I had ever had. It was very common to hear a small explosion two or three times a day. Tonks seemed eager about something though, as she dropped several clues as to that something was going to happen and the Ministry had a hand to it.

Before I knew it, Sunday arrived. One day before returning to Hogwarts with my friends.

_But I wasn't sure anymore if they were really my friends._

Like always, Tonks stayed for dinner. But this time, she brought a surprise with her.

"Ta - da!" from her pink satchel, she pulled out a big white box with a blue ribbon on it. "Your very late birthday present!"

I blushed. "'Tonks, it wasn't necesary. Besides, like you said, it has already passed - "

"Then it's your Christmas gift!"

"But -"

"Just accept the damned gift," Natasha sighed. "She's going to be bothering you all day."

Tonks pouted. "Now, that really sting, Rosely."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "You will get over it. Open it, end my pain, once for all," she pointed at me.

Sighing, I grabbed the box from Tonks (whom let out an excited sound) and put it on my bed.

I opened it and - NO WAY!

"No way!" I said outloud. Resting peacefully in there was a strapless white dress made of silk that possibly reached my knees.

"There's more," Tonks was smiling like a lunatic, "Look again."

Pulling out the dress and laying it carefully on the bed, I searched inside the box.

"How much far do I have to search?" I asked her grunting. My whole arm was inside the box and I still haven't found the rest of the surprise.

"Just a few centimeters."

I groaned.

Like half an hour later, I finally made a grab of something and I tugged it hard. I fell on my butt. Tightly on my grasp were a pair of white boots without heels. The material seemed to be made of silk like the dress.

"This is amazing Tonks," I gaped at both items. "Thank you!"

"Ah," Tonks waved her hand dismissing me. "Don't worry, I have the feeling that you are going to need them."

"Does this have to do with the super secret you have been hinting?" Nat raised her eyebrows.

"Maybe," she winked at us.

* * *

Next day dawned gloomily. There was no Tonks today to set a bomb off in the stairs, as she was called to solve a little problem, that, in her words, was "to just make her boring".

Nat and I arrived at the Platform Nine and Three-Quarters in time, and before she said goodbye, she warned me to look out my surroundings.

"I have a bad feeling, that's all," she had said.

I found a compartment for myself and just stared out the window. Thick rain hit against the old glass. Something was going to happen...

"Annie!" I heard an excited voice. Snapping my head around, I saw Hermione smiling at me, followed by a slightly sad Harry and a grumpy Ron.

"Hey guys," I smiled at them. My last thought of last year came to my head. _You're just a tag-along._

Harry smiled at me and Ron grumbled something under his breath while he opened his trunk, pulled out some gastly maroon dress from the Nineteenth century (I am sure of it!), and flung them over Pigwidgeon's (Ron's new owl) cage to muffle his hooting.

"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he continued grumpily from where he sat next to Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother won't say. Wonder what -"

"You too?" I asked him darkly. It seemed everyone knew except us.

"Shh!" Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her fingers to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to ours. I perked up my ears, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

"...Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually _learn_ them, not just the defense rubbish we do..."

Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.

"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I wish he _had_ gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

I raised my hand. "I second that."

They ignored me.

"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" Harry asked puzzled.

"Yes," Hermione said sniffily, "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to _An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts."

"I think I've heard of it," Ron said vaguely. "Where is it? What country?"

"Rumor has it that it's near the coasts of Russia," I said casually.

"But, nobody knows, do they?" Hermione said, raising her eyebrows at me.

"Like I said, it's just a rumor," I shrugged.

"Er - why not? I mean, why nobody knows?" Harry asked.

"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

"Come off it," Ron said, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts - how are you going to hide a great big castle?"

"But Hogwarts _is_ hidden," I said, in surprise. "Everyone knows that..."

"Well, everyone who's read _Hogwarts, A History,_ anyway," said Hermione.

"Just you, then," said Ron.

"And Annie too!"

"Because you made me," I mumbled, looking over at the rain.

"So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?"

"It's bewitched," Hermione said. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying **DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE."**

"So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?"

"There could be a good chance," I said, shrugging, "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable -"

"Come again?"

"Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?"

"Er...if you say so," Harry said.

"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms."

"Ah, think of the possibilities," Ron said dreamily. "It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident...Shame his mother likes him..."

I nodded in agreement.

The rain became heavier and heavier as the train moved farther north. The sky was so dark and the windows so steamy that the lanterns were lit by midday. The lunch trolley came rattling along the corridor, and Harry bought a large stack of Cauldron Cakes for us to share.

Several people came in to see us, including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom, my round faced friend I had become to like over the last year. Seamus was still wearing his Ireland rosette. Some of its magic seemed to be wearing off now; it was still squeaking _"Troy - Mullet - Moran!"_ but in a very feeble and exhausted sort of way. After half an hour or so, Hermione, growing tired of the endless Quidditch talk, buried herself once more in _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4_, and started trying to learn a Summoning Charm.

Neville listened jealously to the others' conversation as we relived the Cup match.

"Gran didn't want to go," he said miserably. "Wouldn't buy tickets. It sounded amazing though."

"It was," said Ron. "Look at this, Neville…" He rummaged in his trunk up in the luggage rack and pulled out the miniature figure of Viktor Krum.

"Oh wow," said Neville enviously as Ron tipped Krum onto his pudgy hand. I snapped my fingers.

"That reminds me, Nev," I rumaged through my trunk and pulled out a set of Ireland and Bulgarian rosettes.

"Happy Birthday!" I exclaimed smiling to him. "Late Birthday though."

"Annie..." Nevile gaped at the rosettes with incredulous eyes. "You didn't have to..."

"I know, but I very much liked your present. It was beautiful, really."

Neville ducked his head when Seamus and Dean started teasing him, but I could still see the tip of his ears turn red. Quickly, Harry returned the conversation to Krum and Ron started going fan-girl again.

"We saw him right up close, as well," Ron said. "We were in the Top Box -"

"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley."

Draco Malfoy had appeared in the doorway. Behind him stood Crabbe and Goyle, his enormous, thuggish cronies, both of whom appeared to have grown at least a foot during the summer. Evidently they had overheard the conversation through the compartment door, which Dean and Seamus had left ajar.

"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy," Harry said coolly.

"Weasley...what is _that_?" Malfoy said, pointing at Pigwidgeon's cage. A sleeve of Ron's dress robes was dangling from it, swaying with the motion of the train, the moldy lace cuff very obvious.

Ron made to stuff the robes out of sight, but Malfoy was too quick for him; he seized the sleeve and pulled.

"Look at this!" Malfoy said in ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of _wearing_ these, were you? I mean - they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety..."

"Eat dung, Malfoy!" Ron said, the same color as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Malfoy's grip. Malfoy howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly.

"So...going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know...you'd be able to afford some decent robes if you won..."

"What are you talking about?" Ron snapped.

"Are you going to enter?" Malfoy repeated. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?"

"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, over the top of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.

A gleeful smile spread across Malfoy's pale face

"Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "You've got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don't even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago… heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry… Maybe your father's too junior to know about it, Weasley… yes… they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him…"

I stood up and glared up at his face. Why was I the only one that hadn't grown up taller?

"Remember my words, Malfoy," I told him quietly. He seemed to remember what I told him last year. "_Get out_."

"There's going to be a time your words aren't going to mean something, Barton," he hissed.

With a last glare, Malfoy and his apes left.

Ron got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered.

_"Ron!"_ Hermione said reproachfully, and she pulled out her wand, muttered _"Reparo!"_ and the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.

"Well...making it look like he knows everything and we don't..." Ron snarled. _" 'Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry'_...Dad could've got a promotion any time...he just likes it where he is..."

"Of course he does," Hermione said quietly. "Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron -"

"Him! Get to me!? As if!" Ron said, picking up one of the remaining Cauldron Cakes and squashing it into a pulp.

Ron's bad mood continued for the rest of the journey. He didn't talk much as we changed into our school robes, and was still glowering when the Hogwarts Express slowed down at last and finally stopped in the pitch-darkness of Hogsmeade station.

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione bundled up Crookshanks in her cloak and Ron left his dress robes over Pigwidgeon as we left the train, heads bent and eyes narrowed against the downpour. The rain was now coming down so thick and fast that it was as though buckets of icecold water were being emptied repeatedly over our heads.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yelled, pointing out the gigantic silhouette at the far end of the platform.

"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"

First years traditionally reached Hogwarts Castle by sailing across the lake with Hagrid.

"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," said Hermione fervently, shivering as we inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd. A hundred carriages stood waiting for us outside the station. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and me climbed gratefully into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.


	13. Mad-eye

Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, I could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as their carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and me jumped down from our carriage and dashed up the steps too, looking up only when we were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.

"Blimey," said Ron, shaking his head and sending water everywhere, "if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak - ARRGH!"

A large red-balloon had just dropped on Ron's head and exploded with water. A second one fell – righ into my head. I looked up in a glare. Sure enough, Peeves was giggling while he stared at our soaked figures and threw another balloon, nearly missing Hermione but bursting at Harry's feet, definitely soaking his sneakers.

Taking concentration, Peeves threw another green balloon, but missed because everyone was taking cover from him.

"PEEVES!" an angry voice yelled. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"

Professor McGonagall, deputy headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House, had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.

"Ouch - sorry, Miss Granger -"

"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.

"Peeves get down here NOW!" Professor McGonagall barked, straightening her pointed hat and glaring upward through her square-rimmed spectacles.

"Not doing nothing!" Peeves cackled, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.

"I shall call the headmaster!" Professor McGonagall shouted. "I'm warning you, Peeves -"

Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.

"Well, move along, then!" Professor McGonagall said sharply to the bedraggled crowd. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"

I sneezed.

"Oh," I said angrily. Now I was going to be sick.

We slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right, Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he pushed his sopping hair off his face.

Like usual, the Great Hall always surprised me. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundred and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, facing us in a fifth table, the staff chatted merrily (except Snape. He kept glaring at some third year).

We walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Pearly white and semitransparent, Nick was dressed tonight in his usual doublet, but with a particularly large ruff, which served the dual purpose of looking extra-festive, and insuring that his head didn't wobble too much on his parially severed neck.

"Good evening," he said, beaming at us.

"Says who?" Harry took off his sneakers angrily and emptied them of water. "Hope they hurry up with the Sorting. I'm starving."

As in cue, my stomach grumbled. Ron and Harry raised his eyebrows at me while Hermione tried to not smile in amusement.

"Well, my stomach just agreed with you, Harry."

The Sorting of the new students into Houses took place at the start of every school year, but by an unlucky combination of circumstances, Harry hadn't been present at once since his own. He appeared to be quite looking forward to it. Just then, a highly excited, breathless voice called down the table.

"Hiya, Harry!" there was no need to look at the person. The only one that talked to Harry like if he was a famous actor here was Colin Creevey, a third year boy with an obsession towards Harry.

"Hi, Colin," replied Harry, eyeing him wearily.

"Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!"

"Er – good."

"He's really excited!" said Colin, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?"

"Er - yeah, all right," said Harry. He turned back to Hermione, Ron, Nearly Headless Nick and me.

"Brothers and sisters usually go in the same Houses, don't they?" he asked.

"Oh no, not necessarily," said Hermione. "Parvati Patil's twin's in Ravenclaw, and they're identical. You'd think they'd be together, wouldn't you?"

I drifted off and looked over the staff table. There seemed to be more vacant seats this year.

Hagrid, of course, was still fighting his way across the lake with the first years; Professor McGonagall was presumably supervising the drying of the entrance hall floor, but there was another empty chair too, probably for the new professor.

"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Hermione, who was also looking up at the teachers.

Someone said the job was cursed, but nearly since fifty years ago, no teacher had lasted more than a year in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Looking around, there was no new face.

"Maybe they couldn't get anyone!" said Hermione, looking anxious.

I rolled my eyes and looked up at the ceiling. It was stormy. Black and purple clouds were swirling across it, and as another thunderclap sounded outside, a fork of lightning flashed across it.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, on Harry's other side. "I could eat a hippogriff."

"If you can catch one, count me in," I mumbled.

The doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. If Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I were wet, it was nothing to how these first years looked. They appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school - all them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what I recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it looked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully exicted. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, _I fell in the lake!_

Ah, must be his brother.

Professor McGonagall now placed a four-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty, patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:

_A thousand years or more ago,_

_When I was newly sewn,_

_There lived four wizards of renown,_

_Whose names are still well known:_

_Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor,_

_Fair Ravenclaw, from glen,_

_Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad,_

_Shrewd Slytherin, from fen._

_The shared a wish, a hope, a dream,_

_They hatched a daring plan_

_To educate young sorcerers_

_Thus Hogwarts School began._

_Now each of these four founders_

_Formed their own House, for each_

_Did value different virtues_

_In the ones they had to teach._

_By Gryffindor, the bravest were_

_Prized far beyond the rest;_

_For Ravenclaw, the cleverest_

_Would always be the best;_

_For Hufflepuff, hard workers were_

_Most worthy of admission;_

_And power-hungry Slytherin_

_Loved those of great ambition._

_While still alive they did divide_

_Their favorites from the throng,_

_Yet how to pick the worthy ones_

_When they were dead and gone?_

_'Twas Gryffindor who found the way,_

_He whipped me off his head_

_The founders put some brains in me_

_So I could choose instead!_

_Now slip me snug about your ears,_

_I've never yet been wrong,_

_I'll have a look inside your mind_

_And tell where you belong!_

"That's not the song it sang when it Sorted us," Harry said, clapping along with everyone else.

"Sings a different one every year," Ron said. "It's got to be a pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year making up the next one."

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.

"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table."

"Ackerley, Stewart!"

A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted.

Stewart Ackerley took off the hat and hurried into a seat at the Ravenclaw table, where everyone was applauding him. Cho Chang, seeker of Ravenclaw team , particularly cheered loudly.

"Baddock, Malcolm!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

The table on the other side of the hall erupted with cheers; I could see Malfoy clapping as Baddock joined the Slytherins. Iwondered whether Baddock knew that Slytherin House had turned out more Dark witches and wizards than any other. Fred and George hissed Malcolm Baddock as he sat down.

"Branstone, Eleanor!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Cauldwell, Owen!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Creevey, Dennis!"

Tiny Dennis Creevey staggered forward, tripping over Hagrid's moleskin, just as Hagrid himself sidled into the Hall through a door behind the teachers' table. About twice as tall as a normal man, and at least three times as broad, Hagrid, with his long, wild, tangled black hair and beard, looked slightly alarming – a misleading impression, for Harry, Ron, Hermione and me knew Hagrid to possess a very kind nature. He winked at us as he sat down at the end of the staff table and watched Dennis Creevey putting on the Sorting Hat. The rip at the brim opened wide— -

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted.

Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother.

"Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"

"Cool!" said Colin, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"

"Wow!" said Dennis, as though nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake, and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster.

"Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See him? Know who he is, Dennis?"

Harry looked away, staring very hard at the Sorting Hat, now Sorting Emma Dobbs. I was laughing, yep another fan.

The Sorting continued; boys and girls with varying degrees of fright on their faces moving one by one to the three-legged stool, the line dwindling slowly as Professor McGonagall passed the L's.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, massaging his stomach.

"Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food," said Nearly Headless Nick as "Madley, Laura!" became a Hufflepuff.

"Course it is, if you're dead," snapped Ron.

"I do hope this year's batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch," said Nearly Headless Nick, applauding as "McDonald, Natalie!" joined the Gryffindor table.

"We don't want to break our winning streak, do we?"

Gryffindor had won the Inter-House Championship for the last three years in a row.

"Pritchard, Graham!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Quirke, Orla!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended. Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.

"About time," Ron and I said, grabbing our knives and forks, looking expectantly at the golden plates.

Mr. Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.

"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

"Hear, hear!" said Harry and Ron loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before our eyes.

Nearly Headless Nick watched mournfully as Harry, Ron, Hermione and I loaded our own plates.

"Aaah, 'at's be'er," said Ron, with his mouth full of mashed potato.

"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," Nearly Headless Nick said. "There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."

"Why? Wha' 'appened?" Harry asked, through a sizable chunk of steak.

"Peeves of course," Nearly Headless Nick said, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. He pulled his ruff a little higher up on his neck. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast - well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he'd like, utterly uncivilized, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghost's council - the Far Friar was all for giving him the chance - but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."

The Bloody Baron was the Slytherin ghost, a gaunt and silent specter covered in silver bloodstains. He was the only person at Hogwarts who could really control Peeves.

"Yeah, we though Peeves seemed hacked off about something," Ron said darkly. "So what did he do in the kitchens?"

"Oh the usual," Nearly Headless Nick said, shrugging. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits -"

_Clang_.

Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth, and over my black skirt.

"Hermione, not again!" I looked over the table. There must be something to clean this!

"Here," Neville offered me a tissue. I sighed and started rubbing.

"Thank you."

Hermione ignored all of this.

"There are house-elves _here_?" she asked, staring, horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick. "Here at _Hogwarts_?"

"Certainly," Nearly Headless Nick said, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."

"I've never seen one!" Hermione said.

"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?" Nearly Headless Nick said. "They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning...see to the fires and so on...I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"

Hermione stared at him.

"But they get _paid_?" she said. "They get _holidays_, don't they? And - and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"

Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghosty skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck.

"Sick leave and pensions?" he said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!"

Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.

"Oh c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," Ron said, accidentally spraying Harry witih bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops - sorry, 'Arry -" He swallowed. "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"

"Slave labor," Hermione said, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. _Slave labor."_

And even if I tried to persuade her, she didn't touch a single plate.

The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.

"Treacle tart, Hermione!" Ron said, deliberately wafting its smell toward her. "Spotted duck, look! Chocolate gateau!"

But Hermione gave him a look so reminiscent of Professor McGonagall that he gave up.

When the puddings too had been demolished, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.

"So!" Dumbledore said, smiling around at us all. "Now that we are all fed and watered." ("Hmph!" Hermione said.) "I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices."

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbess, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbhedore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"

But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.

A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped.

The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any I had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.

One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all we could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words neither Harry nor I could hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmilingly and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.

The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in it's socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" Dumbledore said brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."

"Moody?" I heard Harry mutter to Ron. _"Mad-Eye Moody?_ The one your dad went to help this morning?"

I blinked.

"Bloody hell," Seamus muttered in front of me.

"What?" both Dean and I said.

"That's Mad-Eye."

"_The_ Mad-eye Moody?" Dean said astonished. Seamus nodded blankly. "Damn, we owe you Anne."

"Why? What are you both talking about?" I was confused. Even Neville looked at him in recognition.

"He's an Auror. Half of the cells in Azkaban are filled thanks to him. He's supposed to be mad as a hatter these days though," Seamus explained.

So I was right. An Auror was going to be our new teacher.

Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his traveling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it.

"I doubt that's Pumpkin Juice," Neville whispered.

I had a bad feeling from that man.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."

"You're JOKING!" Fred said loudly.

The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.

"I am _not_ joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar..."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.

"Er - but maybe this is not the time...no..." Dumbledore said, "where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament...well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who _do_ know will forgive me for giving a short explaination, and allow their attention to wander freely.

"The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities - until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."

_"Death toll?"_ Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and I myself was far more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.

"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament," Dumbledore continued, "none of which has been very successful. However, our own Departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.

"The Heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their shortlisted contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."

"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, I could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.

"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "the heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration.

This" — Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hogwarts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen."

"The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.

"They can't do that!" shouted George Weasley in the front, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"

"They're not stopping me entering," said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table. "The champions will get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"

"Yeah," said Ron, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons…"

"Come on," said Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred and George set off for the entrance hall, Neville and I following behind. From here, I could hear the twins debating the ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen from entering the tournament.

"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" Harry said.

"Dunno," said Fred, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George…"

"People have died, though!" said Hermione in a worried voice as we walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.

"Yeah," said Fred airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"

"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harry. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older… Dunno if we've learned enough…"

"I definitely haven't," Neville sighed gloomily besides me. "I expect my gran'd want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honor. I'll just have to —"

I quickly grasped his elbow and turned him around. Neville had almost struck his foot on one of the famous trick stairs at Hogwarts.

Neville sighed in relief. A suit of armor at the top of the stairs creaked and clanked, laughing wheezily at us.

"Oh, shut it!" I hit the armor hard, making the helmet spin.

We made our way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she said as we approached.

"Balderdash," George said, "a prefect downstairs told me."

The portrait swung forward to reveal a hole in the wall through which we all climbed. A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was fully of squashy armchairs and tables. Hermione casted a dark look to the flames on the chimney, muttering "_Slave labor_," under her breath.

After bidding goodbye, I still had to hear the dark thing Hermione was thinking about Mr. Dumbledore making house-elves work here.

"No pay! Honestly!" she yelled, making my owl, Cal, hoot in surprise.

And so she continued. It was the muttering or the pacing, but I couldn't stand both of them.

"Why don't you create an Organization," I yawned. "You know, for this. It can maybe help on something. Talk about the elves' rights…" I yawned more.

Hermione had stopped completely pacing and a smile slowly started to stretch on her face.

_How creepy_, was my as thought before I drifted off to sleep.


	14. More future-thingys?

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning, though the ceiling in the Great Hall was still gloomy; heavy clouds of pewter gray swirled overhead as Neville and I tried to eat.

Professor McGonagall came to give us our schedules as usual and asked me to give the 'Golden Trio' theirs.

In the morning I had reflected a lot about if we were really friends. Did they even considered me as one? Or was I an acquaintance or annoyance to them?

Either way, I almost tripped over Neville because these thoughts continued plaguing me.

The trio of friends arrived.

"Annie, where were you? I didn't see you this morning in our dormitory nor the library."

The Hogwarts library was a place I call my sanctuary. How stupid of me for not remembering it.

"I took a walk," I shrugged. But Neville was looking at me worriedly. Damn, that boy knew me too well for my good.

"Today's not bad...outside all morning," Ron said, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures...damn it, we're still with the Slytherins..."

"Double Divination this afternoon," Harry groaned, looking down. Divination was our least favorite subject, apart from Potions. Professor Trelawney kept predicting Harry's (and occasionally, mine) death, which he found extremely annoying.

"You should have given it up like me, shouldn't you?" Hermione said briskly, buttering herself some toast. "Then you'd be doing something sensible like Arithmancy."

"You're eating again, I notice," Ron said, watching Hermione adding liberal amounts of jam to her toast too.

"I've decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights," Hermione said haughtily. Oh, no. What did I do?

"Yeah...and you were hungry," Ron said, grinning.

There was a sudden rustling noise above us, and a hundred owls came soaring through the open windows carrying the morning mail. The owls circled the tables, looking for the people to whom their letters and packages were addressed. A large tawny owl soared down to Neville and deposited a parcel into his lap.

"Must have forgotten something," he sighed.

To my surprise, an old brown old deposited an envelope on my lap.

Curious about it, I looked at the remittent and –

I snorted.

"Who's it?" Neville asked. In his hands were two thick books that his gran sent him.

"From my cousin, Dora," I looked inside and instead of a letter, I found a photo.

I looked at it and nearly chocked on my juice.

It was a black and white Wizarding photograph. But it was more the fact that there were two kids smiling at the camera. They were identical and wearing their Hogwarts robes with the Gryffindor crest on them. And the girl looked exactly like me, except her eyes were gray, her hair black, and that my hair had cleared a lot over this summer, making it look brown.

"_Dear Anne,_

_I found this on my mum's old memory chest (don't you ever mention me if mum discovers it) and I think you deserve to have it. As I know that you too know whom they are, I hope you don't lose it: is the only one I found were they weren't wearing scowls at the camera or at each other._

_Luv from your favorite cousin,_

_Tonks."_

What would I do without Tonks?

* * *

After a very interesting Herbology class were Seamus kept asking about pus, and a Care of Magical Creatures class with angry exploding bugs, we once again found ourselves on the Great Hall.

But instead of eating, I stared openmouthed at Hermione, whom was eating so fast like me when I first arrived at Hogwarts.

"Um… Hermione?" Neville asked shyly. Hermione continued eating but waved her hand to let us know she was listening.

"Er - is this the new stand on elf rights?" Ron asked. "You're going to make yourself puke instead?"

"No," said Hermione, with as much dignity as she could muster with her mouth bulging with sprouts. "I just want to get to the library."

"What?" said Ron in disbelief. "Hermione - it's the first day back! We haven't even got homework yet!"

Hermione shrugged and continued to shovel down her food as though she had not eaten for days. Then she leapt to her feet, said, "See you at dinner!" and departed at high speed.

"Oh, this isn't going to end well," I sighed sadly.

When the bell rang to signal the start of afternoon lessons, we set off for North Tower where, at the top of a tightly spiraling staircase, a silver stepladder led to a circular trapdoor in the ceiling, and the room where Professor Trelawney lived.

The familiar sweet perfume spreading from the fire met our nostrils as we emerged at the top of the stepladder. As ever, the curtains were all closed; the circular room was bathed in a dim reddish light cast by the many lamps, which were all draped with scarves and shawls.

Instead of seating with Harry and Ron, I decided to be next to Neville on the table behind theirs. He was surprised to say the least.

"Good day," said the misty voice of Professor Trelawney right behind Harry, making him jump.

A very thin woman with enormous glasses that made her eyes appear far too large for her face, Professor Trelawney was peering down at Harry with the tragic expression she always wore whenever she saw him. The usual large amount of beads, chains, and bangles glittered upon her person in the firelight.

"You are preoccupied, my dear," she said mournfully to Harry. "My inner eye sees past your brave face to the troubled soul within. And I regret to say that your worries are not baseless. I see difficult times ahead for you, alas… most difficult… I fear the thing you dread will indeed come to pass… and perhaps sooner than you think…"

Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, who looked stonily back. Professor Trelawney swept past them and seated herself in a large winged armchair before the fire, facing the class. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, who deeply admired Professor Trelawney, were sitting on poufs very close to her.

Neville and I shared a look. Nodding at each other, we drew back our chairs.

"My dears, it is time for us to consider the stars," Trelawney said. "The movements of the planets and the mysterious portents they reveal only to those who understand the steps of the celestial dance. Human destiny may be deciphered by the planetary rays, which intermingle..."

And the Professor continued talking on and on about how much influence the planets have in our lives.

"A clear expression of this is the day we were born," she ranted. "Like Mr. Potter there!" she pointed at Harry. "He was born under the baleful influence of Saturn."

But Harry didn't paid her attention.

"Harry!" Ron muttered.

"What?" he asked.

Harry looked around; the whole class was staring at him. He sat up straight; looked like he almost dozed off.

"I was saying, my dear, that you were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn," said Professor Trelawney, a faint note of resentment in her voice at the fact that he had obviously not been hanging on her words.

"Born under - what, sorry?" said Harry.

"Saturn, dear, the planet Saturn!" said Professor Trelawney, sounding definitely irritated that he wasn't riveted by this news. "I was saying that Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth… Your dark hair… your mean stature… tragic losses so young in life… I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"

"No," said Harry, "I was born in July."

I literally face palmed here.

Half an hour later, each of us had been given a complicated circular chart, and was attempting to fill in the position of the planets at our moment of birth.

"I've got Saturn and… the Sun? Is that even possible?" Neville wondered.

"Well, everything can happen," I shrugged. "So, I've found Mercury and – Pluto, isn't it?"

"What do you think those both mean?"

"Um, let's see…" I put a finger on the book. "Okay, I found yours. Not by appearance but by your personal descriptions. Saturn means that you have lost much in your life but you had been able to endure the pain…" Neville's eyes widened. "And look at that, there really is the Sun! It means that you are courageous –" he snorted. "No, let me finish. Both planets together means that while you may have dark moments, your courage will always stand out, more definitely when there seems to be no hope."

"Are you sure you are talking about me?" Neville pointed at himself incredulously. "I have no courage at all! Malfoy and his goons always bully me!"

I looked at him sternly.

"Neville, you shouldn't think so low about yourself. This means something even if the teacher is nuts. Maybe not now, but I think you will be more than just a backstage actor in this drama."

But he didn't look convinced.

Sighing at my failed attempt of cheering, I started looking for my description.

_Mercury. Wisdom and knowledge ruled first. The knowledge will always be by your side in the moment of doubt. You give much into other people's lives without asking anything in exchange. Kindness is meant to be your weapon, yet your brains will prevail long enough. Your greatest flaw is that you care too much._

_Pluto. The lone planet. Not known properly by its original name, it has been qualified as another type of satellite. The time always fast up when you think everything is going to be the same. Silence has been prominently your course of action, thought you watch calculatedly for the moment of action._

_**Together. They are equals in desperate times of change. While you search for the truth, time will be against your desperate race of knowledge. Expect dread coming in your way, until silence reigns over the faith in your heart.**_

I frowned. This class really made my head ache when something like a future- thingy happens.

"Aaaaah," I heard Ron trying imitate Professor Trelawney's mystical whisper, "when two Neptunes appear in the sky, it is a sure sign that a midget in glasses is being born, Harry..."

Seamus and Dean, who were working nearby, sniggered loudly, though not loudly enough to mask the excited squeals of Lavender Brown - "Oh Professor, look! I think I've got an unexpected planet! Oooh, which one's that, Professor?"

"It is Uranus, my dear," Professor Trelawney said, peering down at the chart.

"Can I have a look at Uranus too, Lavender?" Ron said.

All the class waved their heads frantically at him, meaning Ron to shut up. But Professor Trelawney already was looking murderously at him. In the end, she gave us a lot of homework.

"A detailed analysis of the way the planetary movements in the coming month will affect you, with reference to your personal chart," she snapped, sounding much more like Professor McGonagall than her usual airy-fairy self. "I want it ready to hand in next Monday, and no excuses!"

"Miserable old bat," said Ron bitterly as we joined the crowds descending the staircases back to the Great Hall and dinner. "That'll take all weekend, that will…"

"Actually, its awfully easy, Ron," I said to him, he glared at me. Neville chuckled.

"Lots of homework?" said Hermione brightly, catching up with us. "Professor Vector didn't give us any at all!"

"Well, bully for Professor Vector," said Ron moodily.

We reached the entrance hall, which was packed with people queuing for dinner. we had just joined the end of the line, when a loud voice rang out behind us.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

We turned around. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing there, each looking thoroughly pleased about something.

"What?" said Ron shortly.

"Your dad's in the paper, Weasley!" said Malfoy, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet and speaking very loudly, so that everyone in the packed entrance hall could hear.

"Listen to this!

_**FURTHER MISTAKES AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC**_

_It seems as though the Ministry of Magic's troubles are not yet at an end, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Recently under fire for its poor crowd control at the Quidditch World Cup, and still unable to account for the disappearance of one of its witches, the Ministry was plunged into fresh embarrassment yesterday by the antics of Arnold Weasley, of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office."_

Malfoy looked up.

"Imagine them not even getting his name right, Weasley. It's almost as though he's a complete nonentity, isn't it?" he crowed. Everyone in the entrance hall was listening now. Malfoy straightened the paper with a flourish and read on:

_Arnold Weasley, who was charged with possession of a flying car two years ago, was yesterday involved in a tussle with several Muggle law-keepers ("policemen") over a number of highly aggressive dustbins. Mr. Weasley appears to have rushed to the aid of "Mad-Eye" Moody, the aged ex-Auror who retired from the Ministry when no longer able to tell the difference between a handshake and attempted murder. Unsurprisingly, Mr. Weasley found, upon arrival at Mr. Moody's heavily guarded house, that Mr. Moody had once again raised a false alarm. Mr. Weasley was forced to modify several memories before he could escape from the policemen, but refused to answer Daily Prophet questions about why he had involved the Ministry in such an undignified and potentially embarrassing scene._

"And there's a picture, Weasley!" said Malfoy, flipping the paper over and holding it up. "A picture of your parents outside their house - if you can call it a house! Your mother could do with losing a bit of weight, couldn't she?"

Ron was shaking with fury. Everyone was staring at him.

"Get stuffed, Malfoy," said Harry. "C'mon, Ron…"

"Oh yeah, you were staying with them this summer, weren't you, Potter?" sneered Malfoy. "So tell me, is his mother really that porky, or is it just the picture?"

"You know your mother, Malfoy?" said Harry - both he and Hermione had grabbed the back of Ron's robes to stop him from launching himself at Malfoy. Neville looked nervously to each side of us. Students were looking at the conversation with interest.

"That expression she's got, like she's got dung under her nose? Has she always looked like that, or was it just because you were with her?"

Malfoy's pale face went slightly pink.

"Don't you dare insult my mother, Potter."

"Keep your fat mouth shut, then," said Harry, turning away.

I was going to do the same but in the corner of my eye I saw Malfoy pointing his wand – I quickly pulled out my wand –

"_Protego_!" I yelled.

BANG!

The spell ricocheted to the other wall. Several people screamed and another loud bang echoed with a roar that nearly scared the hell out of me.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, LADDIE!"

I spun around. Professor Moody was limping down the marble staircase. His wand was out and it was pointing right at a pure white ferret, which was shivering on the stone-flagged floor, exactly where Malfoy had been standing.

There was a terrified silence in the entrance hall. Nobody but Moody was moving a muscle. Moody turned to look at Harry — at least, his normal eye was looking at Harry; the other one was pointing into the back of his head. The crystal eye turned to me, his normal one looked at the ferret.

"Nice timing, Barton," he growled.

They looked surprised at me. In fact, Harry and Ron were gaping, Hermione was looking between Moody and the ferret with shock, and Neville somehow maintained a calm expression, but his eyes darted through all the scene.

I nodded at Professor Moody.

"LEAVE IT!" Moody shouted suddenly. Half the students jumped.

"Leave - what?" Harry said, bewildered.

"Not you - him!" Moody growled, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Crabbe, who had just frozen, about to pick up the white ferret. It seemed that Moody's rolling eye was magical and could see out of the back of his head.

Moody started to limp toward Crabbe, Goyle, and the ferret, which gave a terrified squeak and took off, streaking toward the dungeons.

"I don't think so!" roared Moody, pointing his wand at the ferret again - it flew ten feet into the air, fell with a smack to the floor, and then bounced upward once more.

"I don't like people who attack when their opponent's back's turned," growled Moody as the ferret bounced higher and higher, squealing in pain.

"Stinking, cowardly, scummy thing to do…"

The ferret flew through the air, its legs and tail flailing helplessly. "Never - do - that - again -" said Moody, speaking each word as the ferret hit the stone floor and bounced upward again.

"Professor Moody!" said a shocked voice.

Professor McGonagall was coming down the marble staircase with her arms full of books.

"Hello, Professor McGonagall," said Moody calmly, bouncing the ferret still higher.

"What - what are you doing?" said Professor McGonagall, her eyes following the bouncing ferret's progress through the air.

"Teaching," said Moody.

"Teach - Moody, is that a student?" shrieked Professor McGonagall, the books spilling out of her arms.

"Yep," said Moody.

"No!" cried Professor McGonagall, running down the stairs and pulling out her wand; a moment later, with a loud snapping noise, Draco Malfoy had reappeared, lying in a heap on the floor with his sleek blond hair all over his now brilliantly pink face. He got to his feet, wincing.

"Moody, we never use Transfiguration as a punishment!" said Professor McGonagall wealdy. "Surely Professor Dumbledore told you that?"

"He might've mentioned it, yeah," said Moody, looking like a sheepish ugly puppy, "but I thought a good sharp shock -"

"We give detentions, Moody! Or speak to the offender's Head of House!"

"I'll do that, then," said Moody, staring at Malfoy with great dislike.

Malfoy, whose pale eyes were still watering with pain and humiliation, looked malevolently up at Moody and muttered something in which the words "my father" were distinguishable.

"Oh yeah?" said Moody quietly, limping forward a few steps, the dull clunk of his wooden leg echoing around the hall. "Well, I know your father of old, boy… You tell him Moody's keeping a close eye on his son… you tell him that from me… Now, your Head of House'll be Snape, will it?"

"Yes," said Malfoy resentfully.

"Another old friend," growled Moody. "I've been looking forward to a chat with old Snape… Come on, you…"

And he seized Malfoy's upper arm and marched him off toward the dungeons.

Professor McGonagall stared anxiously after them for a few moments, then waved her wand at her fallen books, causing them to soar up into the air and back into her arms.

"Don't talk to me," Ron said quietly us as we sat down at the Gryffindor table a few minutes later, surrounded by excited talk on all sides about what had just happened.

"Why not?" said Hermione in surprise.

"Because I want to fix that in my memory forever," said Ron, his eyes closed and an uplifted expression on his face. "Draco Malfoy, the amazing bouncing ferret."


	15. Terrifying class

"Alastor Moody," Mad-eye began as he stood at the front of our classroom, staring down at us with both his regular eye and his enchanted eye. He turned and quickly wrote his name on the board behind him before slamming the chalk down and turning back to us. "Ex-Auror, Ministry malcontent, and your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. End of story, goodbye, the end. Any questions?"

No one moved.

"Right then," he said, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures - you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"But you're behind - very behind - on dealing with curses," Moody said. "So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other. I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark -"

"What, aren't you staying?" Ron blurted out.

Moody's magical eye spun around to stare at Ron; Ron looked extremely apprehensive, but after a moment Moody smiled - the first time I had seen him do so. The effect was to make his heavily scarred face look more twisted and contorted than ever, but it was nevertheless good to know that he ever did anything as friendly as smile.

Ron looked deeply relieved.

"You'll be Arthur Weasley's son, eh?" Moody said. "Your father got me out of a very tight corner a few days ago… Yeah, I'm staying just the one year. Special favor to Dumbledore… One year, and then back to my quiet retirement." He gave a harsh laugh, and then clapped his gnarled hands together.

"So - straight into it. Curses. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it till then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a high opinion on your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better. How are you supposed to defend yourself against something you've never seen? A wizard who's about to put an illegal curse on you isn't going to tell you what he's about to do. He's not going to do it nice and polite to your face. You need to be prepared. You need to be alert and watchful. You need to put that away, Miss Brown, when I'm talking."

Lavender jumped and blushed. She had been showing Parvati her completed horoscope under the desk. Apparently Moody's magical eye could see through solid wood, as well as out of the back of his head.

"So...do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Several hands rose tentatively into the air, including Ron's, Hermione's, and mine. Moody pointed at Ron, though his magical eye was still fixed on Lavender.

"Er," Ron said tentatively, "my dad told me about one...Is it called the Imperius Curse, or something?"

"Ah, yes," Moody said appreciatively. "Your father _would_ know that one. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse."

Moody got heavily to his mismatched feet, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Three large black spiders were scuttling around inside it. I just hope he doesn't make us interact with them. I hate spiders.

Moody reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, and held it in the palm of his hand so that we could all see it. He then pointed his wand at it and muttered, _"Imperio!"_

The spider leapt from Moody's hand on a fine thread of silk and began to swing backward and forward as though on a trapeze. It stretched out its legs rigidly, then did a back flip, breaking the thread and landing on the desk, where it began to cartwheel in circles. Moody jerked his wand, and the spider rose onto two of its hind legs and went into what was unmistakably a tap dance.

Ignoring the laughs of my classmates, I stared at the spider's (or what I could barely see) form. It seemed to be… struggling, albeit silently. The thought that there was a spell that could make you do anything unwillingly sent a shudder down my spine.

"Think it's funny, do you?" Moody growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died away almost instantly.

"Total control," he continued quietly as the spider balled itself up and began to roll over and over. "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats…"

From my side, Neville paled.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," said Moody, and I knew he was talking about the days in which Voldemort had been all-powerful. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will."

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone jumped.

Moody picked up the somersaulting spider and threw it back into the jar.

"Anyone else know one? Another illegal curse?"

Hermione's hand flew into the air again and to my surprise, Neville's did too. The only class he volunteered was Herbology, hence why he became my tutor there. Neville looked surprised at his own daring.

"Yes?" said Moody, his magical eye rolling right over to fix on Neville.

"There's one - the Cruciatus Curse," said Neville in a small but distinct voice.

Moody was looking very intently at Neville, this time with both eyes.

"Your name's Longbottom?" he said, his magical eye swooping down to check the register again.

Neville nodded nervously, but Moody made no further inquiries. Turning back to the class at large, he reached into the jar for the next spider and placed it upon the desktop, where it remained motionless, apparently too scared to move.

"The Cruciatus Curse," Moody said. "Needs to be a bit bigger for you to get the idea," he said, pointing his wand at the spider. _"Engorgio!"_

The spider swelled. It was now larger than a tarantula. I would have dragged my chair back, but I was interested as to what was he going to do.

Moody raised his wand again, pointed it at the spider, and muttered, _"Crucio!"_

At once, the spider's legs bent in upon its body; it rolled over and began to twitch horribly, rocking from side to side.

I gasped loudly. There was no sound, yet, I knew what it really was suffering.

The screams of pain I had once heard near a Dementor filled my mind's ears. There was a man screaming, another one shouting to stop.

The red flashes startled me like the first time. This time the man was replaced by a woman. She was crying and begging for mercy.

"_No, please! NOT HIM!" she cried. _

More yells. I could fear the tears rolling down freely. Their pain was mine too. Why anyone didn't help them?

"_No, NO!"_

"Stop," I whispered entranced. I stared at the spider, imagining the voices on my head be his. "Stop it." I said more forcedly.

The spider jerked more vividly.

"STOP IT!" I screeched, standing up and slamming my hands on the desk.

But Moody didn't stop. The spider gave more wild shudders, almost ready to give up.

"Didn't you hear her? Stop it!" I heard Hermione yell shrilly behind me.

I heard someone inhale sharply. Looking from the corner of my eye, I saw Neville white as chalk, his hands were clenched upon the desk in front of him, his knuckles white as his face, eyes wide and horrified at the scene.

The memory of the yells continued. This time I heard another man grunt in pain, trying to not succumb at the dark pain his body was suffering.

"Just please, stop it!" I pleaded.

"Stop it!" Hermione yelled desperately at Moody. "Can't you see that it's bothering them? Stop!"

Moody tore his eyes away from the spider to look up at her and then over at Neville and me before lifting his wand.

I stared in shock at nowhere. I could hear the mad woman's cackling again. The nightmare was starting on.

"Pain," Moody said softly. "You don't need thumbscrews or knives to torture someone if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse...That one was very popular once too. Right...anyone know any others?"

No one spoke nor move.

Moody moved right in front of our desk but I didn't acknowledge his presence.

"Perhaps you could give us the last curse… Miss Barton."

I could feel everyone's eyes on me. I didn't blush like I would have done before. I still stared entranced at Moody's fur coat.

Finally sighing, I looked up to stare at both real and fake blue eyes of Alastor Moody. The way he watched me… it was as if he knew what was happening on that little disturbed head of mine.

"Avada Kedavra," I whispered.

"Ah," said Moody, another slight smile twisting his lopsided mouth. "Yes, the last and worst. Avada Kedavra… the Killing Curse."

He put his hand into the glass jar, and almost as though it knew what was coming, the third spider scuttled frantically around the bottom of the jar, trying to evade Moody's fingers, but he trapped it, and placed it upon the desktop. It started to scuttle frantically across the wooden surface.

The screaming had stopped. From my mind's eye, I could see a figure in a fetal position on the cold marble stone floor. It was the woman and she was sobbing again. I could barely shape her round face being obstructed by her slightly gray hair.

A man was muttering incoherently somewhere behind her. A baby's cry shook my vision and I looked to another point.

The last man was kneeling on the floor, looking quite defeated. His appearance surprised me a lot. He was the vivid image of a young Tom Riddle! Except his eyes. Those were…

_Impossible._

His eyes were hazel with golden and slight green specks on them. Used to see that face with a cold calculating demeanor, it was sort of a slight awe to see so much bravery in his determined face.

Staring boldly at his torturer, he said something that made me wince in surprise.

"_Death… is only the beginning of this war, Bellatrix." And he looked over me with a sad and defeated smile. 'I am sorry', he mouthed._

_"Avada Kedavra!"_ Moody's voice roared.

There was a flash of blinding green light and a rushing sound, as though a vast, invisible something was soaring through the air - instantaneously the spider rolled over onto its back, unmarked, but unmistakably dead. Several of the students stifled cries; Ron had thrown himself backward and almost toppled off his seat as the spider skidded toward him. I slumped down my chair, my body quivering with fright as more tears stung my eyes.

The final scene of my memory came quickly. The woman raised her head and –

"Not nice," Moody was saying calmly. "Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."

I knew everyone was staring behind me, where Harry sat. He was the only known person to have ever survived it apparently. There was no suffer, yet…

_"Avada Kedavra's_ a curse that needs a powerful bit of magic behind it - you could all get your wands out now and point them at me and say the words, and I doubt I'd get so much as a nosebleed. But that doesn't matter. I'm not here to teach you how to do it.

"Now, if there's no countercurse, why am I showing you? _Because you've got to know._ You've got to appreciate what the worst is. You don't want to find yourself in a situation where you're facing it. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he roared, and the whole class jumped again.

"Now...those three curses - _Avada Kedavra_, Imperius, and Cruciatus - are known as the Unforgivable Curses. The use of any one of them on a fellow human being is enough to earn a life sentence in Azkaban. That's what you're up against. That's what I've got to teach you to fight. You need preparing. You need arming. But most of all, you need to practice _constant, never-ceasing vigilance._ Get out your quills...copy this down..."

We spent the rest of the lesson taking notes on each of the Unforgivable Curses. No one spoke until the bell rang – and I quickly sprung up, grabbed my bag and darted through the door.

I jogged up silently.

The man, the man that was killed by some Bellatrix – he looked exactly like a carbon copy of Riddle. This thought made my blood turn cold. I was positively sure whom he was but –

I ended crashing into someone.

We both laid on the floor. Thinking quickly, I grabbed my things and started pulling them into the bag.

"So – sorry…"

I looked up sharply. I hadn't really noticed whom I had made fall, but it seemed the other person was at full speed just like me.

Now staring at him, I understood why.

Neville was shaking from head to foot, still wearing the horrified face when he saw the Cruciatus curse.

I took his things a put them in front of me gently, trying to find his eyes, but he expertly avoided them. Still not looking down at me, Neville grabbed his bag and tried to make a run, but I had grabbed the hem of his sleeve.

He didn't shrug me off nor turn to look at me.

"Neville," I started quietly. What could I tell him this? "How…? I mean – have you ever been on…" I took a deep breath, "a Cathedral…?"

His back stiffened.

That was all I needed to confirm my worries.

"You were there, weren't you…?" I whispered. "The day my dad died."

He turned slightly to one side, now facing the wall.

"Your mum was there too, you have her face…"

His body was trembling.

"You were always there… in the shadows… just listening and watching…"

"Neville? Annie?"

I whirled around. Hermione was watching at us worriedly, Harry and Ron hanging in the back, looking at the three of us nervously.

"Oh hello," Neville said, his voice much higher than usual. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner, I'm - I'm starving, aren't you?"

"Neville, are you all right?" Hermione asked.

"Oh yes, I'm fine," Neville gabbled in the same unnaturally high voice. "Very interesting dinner - I mean lesson - what's for eating?"

I looked at him.

"Neville, what -?"

But an odd clunking noise sounded behind us, and we turned to see Professor Moody limping toward us. All five of us fell silent, watching him apprehensively, but when he spoke, it was in a much lower and gentler growl than we had yet heard.

"Sonny, you all right?" he asked. Neville nodded. "What about you, lass?" his magical eye turned to me.

I nodded at him, not quite to the eyes. Just his ear.

"Alright then. Why don't you two come up to my office? Come on...we can have a cup of tea..."

Neville looked even more frightened at the prospect of tea with Moody. He neither moved nor spoke. Moody turned his magical eye upon Harry.

"You all right, are you, Potter?"

"Yes," snapped Harry.

Moody's blue eye quivered slightly in its socket as it surveyed Harry. Then he said, "You've got to know. It seems harsh, maybe, but you've got to know. No point pretending… well… come on, Longbottom, I've got some books that might interest you. You too, Barton."

Neville stared pleadingly at the trio but they stayed quiet. I grabbed his hand and gave a squeeze of reassurance.

Moody grabbed Neville's shoulder and lead us to his office.


	16. I care too much

Students gaped openly at us as we walked (more like Moody limped) through the halls. I didn't blame them. What did we do to be by the crazy new teacher's side in just the first week (and in our case day) of classes?

Neville trembled every once as we neared the office.

What was Moody going to say to us? Would he reproach us of our silly actions during his class? Or worse. _What if he asks us why the Curses affected us so much?_

Dreading the worst, we entered Moody's office.

I looked over Neville's shoulder standing on my tiptoes and into Moody's office to see a number of large lenses sitting about the room, making everything look odd through them. I could hear Moody sigh in the next room, and found him sitting in a rolling chair, pulling off his heavy metal fake leg which he set on a display before turning and relaxing in his chair.

Across the room, another larger lens was sitting steadily at the wall, watching every corner of the office.

"A Foe Glass," Moody said, noticing me looking over at it with interest. "Let's me keep an eye on my enemies… If I can see the whites of their eyes, they're right behind me," Moody laughed loudly as he spun around as if scared by the non-existent person behind him.

Neville looked at me, slightly scared.

It didn't help at all when a chest behind us suddenly startled to rattle wildly.

A scream echoed in the room.

Scratch that – three screams echoed on the room.

Neville and I clutched our sleeves of the other's robes.

"What – what's in there?" I gasped.

"Won't bother telling you. You two wouldn't believe it if I did," Moody said, looking at the chest with both eyes before turning back to his desk. "Take a seat."

We obeyed him immediately.

As Neville stared in fright and wonder around, I curiously peaked another look to the chest. What would be in there? A magical creature for our class? Moody said we wouldn't believe him if he told us.

"Here," I snapped my head to the left and saw Moody… offering us a cup of tea.

With shaking hands, Neville accepted the cup but didn't drank it, just stared at the liquid.

"Barton?" Moody offered me another cup. Eyeing it, I accepted it but I just held it there.

A harsh laugh from Moody made us jump.

"Good, good!" he slapped his knee, staring between us like if we had told him a joke. "You both are cautious. That's good. You never know if your drink's poisoned."

I looked down at the murky colored tea and laid it down on the desk. Better not risk it with Mad-eye.

"So, Longbottom?" Neville jumped up straight on his place when he heard his name. "Professor Sprout tells me you have an aptitude for Herbology."

"Well, I – it's not like –"

"Please Neville," I scoffed at his blushing and stuttering face. "If it wasn't for you, I would have went havoc on my notes. He's the best student on it," I added to Moody.

"And what's your thing, Barton?" he asked.

"Little of everything," I said sheepishly. Since my first year, I had been a lot distracted and my firstly usually good notes that rivaled Hermione's disappeared as more problems arrived.

Moody hummed in thought, staring right behind us were the Foe Glass was.

"I see… you have nice reflexes. You both have," he scratched his chin.

Neville seemed to be more disturbed by this.

"Professor, I think you had been mistaken. There's no way I have _reflexes_…"

"That's where you're wrong, Longbottom!" Moody slammed his hand on the desk. "I saw you both with the Malfoy git."

I had the sudden urge to smirk when I heard that.

"You," he pointed at me, "have the strength. You easily repelled the spell as if you were bored. And you," he pointed at Neville, "have the brains. Didn't think anyone saw you looking around the place and the situation? A smart bloke always knows his surroundings."

I was staring at Mad-eye. He was complimenting us.

"You two would be the best Aurors if you wanted to," he growled appreciatively. "Blimey, even the best damned team! I'm hearing it now," he smirked. "The next Golden team arises."

"Golden team?" we wondered.

"That's how your fathers were called. The best partners the Ministry had ever seen."

Wow… my dad was an Auror, and Neville's too!

And he continued talking. He told us so much of our fathers' adventures. They were friends by the way he talked. They liked to create things, "useful ones for the job", Mad-eye said.

To my surprise, he mentioned that James Potter (Harry's dad) and Sirius Black (my uncle) were on the team too. Neville looked shocked when he heard about Uncle Sirius but soon relaxed as Moody continued his short memories of them.

It wasn't much, but it certainly made my heart warm hearing about my dad. It took out the thought of his sudden resemblance of Riddle.

Before we left, Moody gave Neville a book named _Mediterranean Water Plants and Their Properties._

"To boast that knowledge of yours. You're going to like it," he had said.

And with a last yell of "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" we left his office.

I looked over at Neville.

Tears were running wildly down his cheeks.

I wasn't sure if it was because of hearing of his father, or because the memory of the witling spider opened an old scar. A very deep one.

It certainly was something I didn't want to see again in a lifetime.

* * *

I spent the rest of my afternoon doing the Divination homework on the girls' dormitory. I wrote in the first week that I would receive a shock. The following was a matter of dreading news. I would learn an important thing.

And it just continued with more things that made my head spin.

Deciding that I needed a rest, I went downstairs to the common room, Harry and Ron were on a table, surrounded by a lot of parchment pieces with the planets symbols and incorrect calculations.

"Hello boys," I said. They looked up.

"Anne!" Ron exclaimed. I looked between them.

"How are you?" Harry asked me. I narrowed my eyes.

"…Fine. Why?"

They both shifted awkwardly on their seats looking anywhere but me.

"Well," Ron cleared his throat, "before Mad-eye arrived, you were – kind-of crying."

"Crying?" I wondered. God Lord, I hadn't noticed! "I didn't notice."

"Blimey, are you serious? In class you went sort of mad!" Ron exclaimed.

That I have noticed.

"What really happened out there?" Harry looked seriously at me. Those stunning emerald eyes… I wish they would stop staring at me. It was like if he was looking right through my soul.

"Nothing." I shook my head. "I sort of panicked, you know…"

Harry didn't look convinced but he didn't pressure me.

"So, what are you doing?"

They were doing their Divination homework the old way. Inventing it.

As they did their predictions, more wilder it got. It started with a cold, Ron suggested harry to write down he would be stabbed by a friend, Ron would be coming worst off a fight, and they are now that one of them was going to be burned by a very angry dragon. Where are they going to get a dragon?

Having a good laugh for the first time on the day, I started suggesting incredulous things like Ron was going to sleep on the Black Lake.

"How I am going to sleep down there without drowning?" Ron asked.

"Dunno," I shrugged, "but I bet Trelawney will love to guess it."

A while later, Hermione joined us in the common room about ten minutes after Fred and George left for bed. The library had probably closed by now.

"Hello," Hermione said, carrying a roll of parchment and a box. "I've just finished!"

"So have I!" Ron said, throwing down his quill. Hermione set everything down that she had been carrying and pulled Ron's chart towards her.

"Not going to have a very good month, are you?" she asked. Crookshanks jumped up and curled up in her lap.

"Ah well, at least I'm forewarned," Ron said, yawning.

"You seem to be downing twice," Hermione commented.

"Oh am I?" Ron said, peering down at his predictions. "I'd better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging hippogriff."

"Don't you think it's a bit obvious you've made these up?" Hermione said.

"How dare you!" Ron said, in mock outrage. "We've been working like house-elves here!"

Hermione raised her eyebrows.

"It's just an expression," Ron said quickly.

I looked over Harry's shoulder. Apparently he'd just finished predicting his own death by decapitation.

"I think is better if you said you're going to die near a statue resembling 'Death'," I told him a little cheerily.

"Good one," he wrote it over. Putting down his quill, he looked at Hermione. "What's in the box?" Harry asked, pointing at the box on her hands.

"Funny you should ask," Hermione said, with a nasty look at Ron. She took off the lid and showed us the contents.

Inside were about fifty badges, all of different colors, but all bearing the same letters: S.P.E.W.

" 'Spew'?" Harry said, picking up a badge and looking at it. "What's this about?"

"Now _spew_," Hermione said impatiently. "It's S-P-E-W. Stands for the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare."

"Never heard of it," Ron said.

"Well, of course you haven't," Hermione said briskly, "I've only just started it."

"Yeah?" Ron said in mild surprise. "How many members have you got?"

"Well - if you join - four," Hermione said.

"And you think we want to walk around wearing badges saying 'spew,' do you?" Ron said.

"S-P-E-W!" Hermione said hotly. "I was going to put _Stop the Outrageous Abuse of Our Fellow Magical Creatures and Campaign for a Change in Their Legal Status_ - but it wouldn't fit. So that's the heading of our manifesto."

She brandished the sheaf of parchment at us.

"I've been researching it thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now."

"Hermione - open your ears," Ron said loudly. "They. Like. It. They _like_ being enslaved!"

"Our short-term aims," Hermione said, speaking even more loudly than Ron, and acting as though she hadn't heard a word, "are to secure house-elves fair wages and working conditions. Our long-term aims include changing the law about non-wand use, and trying to get an elf into the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, because they're shockingly underrepresented."

"And how do we do all this?" Harry asked.

"We start by recruiting members," Hermione said happily. "I thought two Sickles to join - that buys a badge - and the proceeds can fund our leaflet campaign. You're treasurer, Ron - I've got you collecting tin upstairs - and Harry, you're secretary, so you might want to write down everything I'm saying now, as a record of our first meeting. Annie, you're Vice President. You help me recruiting, organizing meetings and making important decisions that can affect our organization."

Hermione paused to take a breath and beamed at the three of us.

"Decisions, huh?" I looked over the badge. "I am your woman for the job."

And we will start with the badges. They are too plain for my taste. If we want to attract attention, we will need attractive publicity.

I heard a soft _taping_ at the window.

"Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed. He jumped up out of his chair and sprinted across the room and let Hedwig in. She flew in the window and landed on top of Harry's prediction chart.

"About time!" Harry said, hurrying back over.

"She's got an answer!" Ron said, pointing at the letter tied to Hedwig's leg.

Harry hastily untied it and sat down to read, whereupon Hedwig fluttered onto his knee, hooting softly.

"What does it say?" I asked.

The letter was very short, and looked as though it had been scrawled in a great hurry. Harry read it aloud:

_Harry-_

_I'm flying north immediately. This news about your scar is the latest in a_ _series of strange rumors that have reached me here. If it hurts again, go straight to_ _Dumbledore—they're saying he's got Mad-Eye out of retirement, which means he's_ _reading the signs, even if no one else is._

_I'll be in touch soon. My best to Ron and Hermione. A hug bear for you, Annie. Keep your eyes_ _open, Harry._

_-Sirius_

Harry looked up at Ron, Hermione and me, we stared back at him.

"He's flying north?" Hermione whispered. "He's coming back?"

"Dumbledore's reading what signs?" said Ron, looking perplexed. "Harry – what's up?"

For Harry had just hit himself in the forehead with his fist, jolting Hedwig out of his lap.

"I shouldn't've told him!" Harry said furiously.

"What are you on about?" said Ron in surprise.

"It's made him think he's got to come back!" Harry said as he slammed his fist on the table so that Hedwig landed on the back of Ron's chair, hooting indignantly.

"Coming back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me! And I haven't got anything for you," Harry snapped at Hedwig, who was clicking her beak expectantly, "you'll have to go up to the Owlery if you want food."

Hedwig gave him an extremely offended look and took off for the open window, cuffing him around the head with her outstretched wing as she went.

"Poor Hedwig," I muttered sadly.

"Poor Hedwig?! Didn't you listen to me at all, Anya?!" Harry exclaimed glaring at me.

"Look, Harry," I started ticked off. He had no right to take it out on me! "Sirius is a grown man, he can take care of himself. You may doubt it, but he still has some tricks under his sleeve," but Harry still glared. "He cares about you, so let him risk his liberty for it. Besides, I'm pretty sure Dumbledore wouldn't let anything happen."

Ron stared at me with gaping mouth. He wasn't used to me talking more than just a line. Hermione was shining with approval of my words. But Harry was glaring more than I thought he only did to Malfoy and Snape.

"You just don't care what happens to him like me," he snapped. My gaze didn't waver from his. "I'm going to bed. See you in the morning," Harry said to Ron and Hermione and left.

If he had stayed a little more, he could have seen my hurt expression, that startled Ron a lot.

"That's the problem," I whispered. "I care too much."


	17. the Heck I'm going to

I didn't dare to speak to Harry. His rude attitude towards me really struck a chord inside me.

_Didn't I care?_ Wasn't _I_ the one that returned to help him when Quirrell/Voldemort almost killed him? Didn't I tried to disappear Riddle's diary for good risking my mind, my own life? Didn't I promise Harry that I would always be by his side and protect him on third year when I thought Uncle Sirius wanted to kill him?

My problem here is, I care too much for what he does, what he thinks and what is going to happen to him. Because, let's admit it: that green eyed boy is a human magnet for trouble, and I sadly have a soft spot for him.

_We'll see who doesn't care._

* * *

I took a seat far away from them on breakfast, a confused Neville eating besides me. He didn't try to ask me what happened, and I mentally thanked him.

But we didn't speak of another thing either. What we discovered yesterday…well, we weren't ready to talk _openly_ about it to each other.

Hermione met me a moment before DADA, telling and confirming my suspects that Harry wasn't going to let Sirius come back. Making the simplest thing, Harry send a letter.

If Uncle Sirius is like I thought him to be, I am sure he would just take that letter as a joke and return more sooner than we ought to think.

Classes began to truly turn difficult, as Snape now made us do harder potions that if one tiny ingredient is left out, the potion explodes.

Neville didn't take this news heartily good.

But what really scared me the hell out of my skin was what Moody was going to do to us in DADA.

"Right. I'll put each of you under the Imperius Curse. To demonstrate what its true power is – and to see whether or not you have the balls to resist it. Any volunteers?" he announced.

"But - but you said it's illegal, Professor," Hermione stuttered as Moody cleared away the desks with a sweep of his wand, leaving a large clear space in the middle of the room. "You said - to use it against another human was -"

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like," Moody said, his magical eye swiveling onto Hermione and fixing her with an eerie, unblinking stare. "If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go."

He pointed one gnarled finger toward the door. Hermione went very pink and muttered something about not meaning that she wanted to leave.

I didn't blame her for questioning it. This scared me, and I started freaking out on my mind about what he would made me to do.

Moody began to beckon students forward in turn and put the Imperius Curse upon us. I watched as, one by one, my classmates did the most extraordinary things under its influence.

Dean hopped three times around the room while singing the national British Anthem. Lavender, my nosey roommate, imitated very well the sound of a squirrel. And Neville, like if he was a professional, did some wicked gymnastic moves around the room that I certainly knew he lacked off.

Not one single of them had managed to fight the Curse off.

"Potter," Moody growled, "you next."

Harry moved forward into the middle of the classroom, into the space that Moody had cleared of desks. Moody raised his wand, pointed it at Harry, and said, "_Imperio_!"

Harry's face cleared from any emotion he had before. A lazy smile made its way on his face and he started nodding happily at the ceiling, not really seeming to have a care for the world. He bent down on his knees, looking ready to sprint. Seeming to be arguing with himself, Harry finally jumped. But he recoiled, and smashed headlong into the desk.

Despite I'm pretty angry at Harry, I felt a little part of my mind worrying over him.

"Now, that's more like it!" growled Moody's voice, "Look at that, you lot… Potter fought! He fought it, and he damn near beat it! We'll try that again, Potter, and the rest of you, pay attention - watch his eyes, that's where you see it - very good, Potter, very good indeed! They'll have trouble controlling you!"

Moody put Harry under the curse four times in a row, until Harry could throw it off entirely.

After Ron and Seamus were made to do a break-dance around the room, Moody called out my name.

_Concentrate on the voice. Concentrate on the voice._

"_Imperio_!" Moody pointed his wand at me once I walked on the center of the room.

The feeling was wonderful. I felt a floating sensation as every thought and worry in my head was wiped gently away, leaving nothing but a vague, untraceable happiness. I stood there feeling immensely relaxed, only dimly aware of everyone watching me. What would serious Anya do right now? _Nothing mattered to me anymore._

_Tell them…_

Tell what?

_Tell them your worst secret … what you fear …_

Why? No one of them cares what I think.

_Tell them…_

It's not _their_ business!

_Tell them your darkest fear! NOW!_

My neck ached. Twisting it awkwardly, I felt the anger flood through my veins.

"The heck I'm going to talk!"

The classroom became still. No sound came from one of my classmates.

The silence, however, was interrupted by the booming laugh coming from Moody.

"Yes, Barton, yes!" Moody growled. I felt confusion, why everyone was gaping?

"Look at that, you lot… she damn beat it in one try! Barton teased it, trying to confuse the caster… and bloody hell, she succeed! We'll do it again. Watch closely her reaction, her eyes –"

Moody put me under the Curse five times in a row. I ended with a serious headache. Trying to argue with your mind it's a complicated task.

Next class was Transfiguration. And like every other class, there was a new amount of homework.

"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education!" she told us, her eyes glinting dangerously behind her square spectacles. "Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer -"

"We don't take O.W.L.s till fifth year!" Dean said indignantly.

"Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger and Miss Barton remain the only people in this class who have managed to turn their hedgehogs into satisfactory pincushions. I might remind you that _your_ pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!"

Embarrassed, Hermione tried to not smile while she blushed. I smiled slightly.

What really surprised me was that Harry and Ron received full mark on their Divination chart. Commending them for their unflinching acceptation of their future, she let them more homework to do for the next month.

She didn't say it aloud lie theirs, but Professor Trelawney warned me for not take to heart what is going to happen on the upcoming weeks, but rather congratulated me for being honest with myself.

Even Hagrid was adding to our workload. The Blast-Ended Skrewts were growing at a remarkable pace given that nobody had yet discovered what they ate. Hagrid was delighted, and as part of our "project," suggested that we come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior.

"I will not," Draco Malfoy said flatly when Hagrid had proposed this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack. "I see enough of these foul things during lessons, thanks."

Hagrid's smile faded off his face.

"Yeh'll do wha' yer told," he growled, "or I'll be takin' a leaf outta Professor Moody's book...I hear yeh made a good ferret, Malfoy."

That honestly made me laugh with everyone else.

"Revenge is so sweet," Neville had sighed happily.

Malfoy flushed with anger, but apparently the memory of Moody's punishment was still sufficiently painful to stop him from retorting.

When we entered the Hall, Neville and I found ourselves unable to walk further.

"I wish I was taller," I groaned. "Neville, can you read it?"

Before he could nod, I heard Ron's voice behind me.

**TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT**

**THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL END HALF AN HOUR EARLY -**

"Brilliant!" Harry appeared beside me. I turned my head a little. I was still angry at him. "It's Potions last thing on Friday! Snape won't have time to poison us all!"

It pains me to say he has a good point.

**STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE THE WELCOMING FEAST.**

Only a week away!" Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff said, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him..."

"Cedric?" Ron said blankly as Ernie hurried off.

"Diggory," I said to him. He was a very nice boy. I wouldn't mind him being a Champion.

"He must be entering the tournament," Harry mused.

"That idiot, Hogwarts champion?" Ron said as we pushed our way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase.

"He's not an idiot. You just don't like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch," Hermione said. "I've heard he's a really good student - _and_ he's a prefect."

She spoke as though this settled the matter.

"You only like him because he's _handsome_," Ron said scathingly.

"Excuse me, I don't like people just because they're handsome!" Hermione said indignantly.

Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like _"Lockhart!"_

"_Please, _he's nothing like Lockhart. Cedric, in fact, has brains," I said scathingly.

"Oh, no," Neville groaned. "You have the case of the Diggory crush!"

"Diggory crush?" Hermione and I asked him.

"A lot of girls are over heels for Cedric Diggory since he had been a student, that's what we call them if they fancy him," he explained.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he could be a Champion," I argued.

"How can you say that if you hadn't known him correctly?" Ron exclaimed from my other side.

"Well, the fact that Cedric got me a new pair of shoes might influence me greatly," I mused.

Neville, Ron, Hermione, and even Harry, who didn't join in the conversation, were looking deeply confused.

* * *

Wherever I went, I heard these words: the TriWizard Tournament.

Rumors were flying from student to student. Who was going to try for Hogwarts champion? What challenges would be in the Tournament? How will look the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang?

I noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics. Other members of the staff seemed oddly tense too.

"Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Professor McGonagall barked at the end of one particularly difficult lesson, during which Neville had accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

When we went down to breakfast on the morning of the thirtieth of October, we found thaat the Great Hall had been decorated overnight. Enormous silk banners hung from the walls, each of them representing a Hogwarts house: red with a gold lion for Gryffindor, blue with a bronze eagle for Ravenclaw, yellow with a black badger for Hufflepuff, and green with a silver serpent for Slytherin. Behind the teachers' table, the largest banner of all bore the Hogwarts coat of arms: lion, eagle, badger, and snake united around a large letter H.

It was breakfast when Hedwig suddenly soared down to me. She fluttered down on my shoulder and held out her leg. She was carrying two letters.

"Wonder why Harry's owl dropped here," Neville asked.

Shrugging, I took the one with my name and gave her a piece of bacon. With a small lovely nip to my cheek, Hedwig once again soared, but now towards her master.

Looking on the front, I saw a paw printed on it.

My eyes widened in delight. It's from Sirius!

Opening it eagerly, I started to read:

_Dear Annie,_

_I am back in the country despite Harry's lame excuses for me to not come. Not trusting Harry to tell me everything, I want you to keep me posted at everything that happens on Hogwarts._

_Please, keep an eye on him. We know how much trouble he likes to get himself in._

_Keep changing owls. Don't want to risk it._

_Hope to see you soon,_

_Sirius._

_Ps. Do you call me uncle?_

I laughed at the last line. But apparently, even if I don't want to talk to him at all, I have to babysit Harry.


	18. Beauxbaton and Durmstrang

There was a pleasant feeling of anticipation in the air that day. Nobody was very attentive in lessons, being much more interested in the arrival that evening of the people from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang; even Potions was more bearable than usual, as it was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Neville and I hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, deposited our bags and books as we had been instructed, pulled on our cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall.

The Heads of Houses were ordering their students into lines.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," Professor McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Parvati scowled and removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait.

"Follow me, please," Professor McGonagall said. "First years in front...no pushing..."

We filed down the steps and lined up in front of the castle. It was a cold, clear evening: dusk was falling and a pale, transparent-looking moon was already shining over the Forbidden Forest. Standing between Ron and Neville in the fourth row from the front, I saw Dennis Creevey positively shivering with anticipation among the other first years.

"Nearly six," Ron said, checking his watch and then staring down the drive that led to the front gates. "How d'you reckon they're coming? The train?"

"I doubt it," Hermione said.

"How then? Broomsticks?" Harry suggested, looking up at the starry sky.

"I don't think so...not from that far away..."

"A Portkey?" Ron suggested. "Or they could Apparate - maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

I rolled my eyes.

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" said Hermione impatiently.

We scanned the darkening grounds excitedly, but nothing was moving; everything was still, silent, and quite as usual. I wrapped my blue scarf around me. Hey, I look like a Ravenclaw!

"It's so damn cold," I whined. "Why can't they hurry up?"

"Don't be a wimp, Annie," Hermione scolded. "Our presence it's very important for the International relations between Wizards."

"Yeah, yeah. Tell that to my freezing ar –"

"Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!" Mr. Dumbledore called from behind.

"Where?" many students asked eagerly, all looking in different directions.

_"There!"_ a sixth year yelled, pointing over the forest.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked one of the first years, losing her head completely.

"Don't be stupid...it's a flying house!" Dennis Creevey said.

Dennis's guess was closer...As the gigantic black shape skimmed over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest and the lights shining from the castle windows hit it, we saw a gigantic, powder-blue, horse-drawn carriage, the size of a large house, soaring toward us, pulled through the air by a dozen winged horses, all palominos, and each the size of an elephant.

The front three rows of students drew backward as the carriage hurtled ever lower, coming in to land at a tremendous speed - then, with an almighty crash that made Neville jump backward onto a Slytherin fifth year's foot, the horses' hooves, larger than dinner plates, hit the ground. A second later, the carriage landed too, bouncing upon its vast wheels, while the golden horses tossed their enormous heads and rolled large, fiery red eyes.

I just had time to see that the door of the carriage bore a coat of arms (two crossed, golden wands, each emitting three stars) before it opened.

A boy in pale blue robes jumped down from the carriage, bent forward, fumbled for a moment with something on the carriage floor, and unfolded a set of golden steps He sprang back respectfully. Then Harry and I saw a shining, high-heeled black shoe emerging from the inside of the carriage - a shoe the size of a child's sled - followed, almost immediately, by the largest woman I had ever seen in my life. The size of the carriage, and of the horses, was immediately explained. A few people gasped.

As she stepped into the light flooding from the entrance hall, she was revealed to have a handsome, oliver-skinned face; large, black, liquid-looking eyes; and a rather beaky nose. Her hair was drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck. She was dressed from head to foot in black satin, and many magnificent opals gleamed at her throat and on her thick fingers.

Dumbledore started to clap; the students, following his lead, broke into applause too, many of us standing on tiptoe, the better to look at this woman.

Her face relaxed into a gracious smile and she walked forward toward Dumbledore, extending a glittering hand. Dumbledore, though tall himself, had barely to bend to kiss it.

"My dear Madame Maxime," he said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbly-dorr," Madam Maxime said in a deep voice. "I 'ope I find you well?"

"In excellent form, I thank you," Dumbledore said.

"My pupils," Madam Maxime said, waving one of her enormous hands carelessly behind her.

Behind her, a dozen boys and girls shivered at the cold air surrounding us. Their cloaks seemed to be made of silk, and a few of them wore scarfs. What bothered me was that they gazed the Hogwarts Castle with distaste. It wasn't like their school was made of crystal, or something.

" 'As Karkaroff arrived yet?" Madame Maxime asked.

"He should be here any moment," Dumbledore said. "Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think," Madam Maxime said. "But ze 'orses -"

"Our Care of Magical Creatures teacher will be delighted to take care of them," Dumbledore said, "the moment he has returned from dealing with a slight situation that has arisen with some of his other - er - charges."

"Skrewts," Ron muttered grinning.

"My steeds require - er - forceful 'andling," Madam Maxime said, looking as though she doubted whether any Care of Magical Creatures teacher at Hogwarts could be up to the job. "Zey are very strong..."

"I assure you that Hagrid will be well up to the job," Dumbledore said, smiling.

"Very well," Madam Maxime said, bowing slightly. "Will you please inform zis 'Agrid zat ze 'orses drink only single-malt whiskey?"

"It will be attended to," Dumbledore said, also bowing.

"Come," Madame Maxime said imperiously to her students, and the Hogwarts crowd parted to allow her and her students to pass up the stone steps.

"How big d'you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?" Seamus Finnigan said, leaning around Lavender and Parvati to address Harry and Ron.

"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," Harry said. "That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skewts. Wonder what's up with them?"

"Maybe they've escaped," Ron said hopefully.

"Oh don't say that," Hermione said as she and I shuddered. "Imagine that lot loose on the grounds..."

We stood shivering slightly now, waiting for the Durmstrang party to arrive. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky. For a few minutes, the silence was broken only by Madam Maxime's huge horses snorting and stamping. But then -

"Can you hear something?" Ron said suddenly.

"It sounds… eerie…" Neville frowned.

"The lake!" Lee Jordan yelled, pointing down at it. "Look at the lake!"

From our position at the top of the lawns overlooking the grounds, we had a clear view of the smooth black surface of the water - except that the surface was suddenly not smooth at all. Some disturbance was taking place deep in the center; great bubbles were forming on the surface, waves were now washing over the muddy banks - and then, out in the very middle of the lake, a whirlpool appeared, as if a giant plug had just been pulled out of the lake's floor...

"It's a mast," Harry said. And slowly, it all appeared, until there was a huge ship sitting in the lake.

People were disembarking; we could see their silhouettes passing the lights in the ship's portholes. All of them seemed to be the size of Crabbe and Goyle because of the matted fur on their cloaks. But the man who was leading them up to the castle was wearing furs of a different sort: sleek and silver, like his hair.

"Dumbledore!" he called heartily as he walked up the slope. "How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?"

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Mr. Dumbledore replied.

Karkaroff had a fruity, uncruous voice; when he stepped into the light pouring from the front doors of the castle we saw that he was tall and thin like Dumbledore, but his white hair was short, and his goatee (finishing in a small curl) did not entirely hide his rather weak chin. When he reached Dumbledore, he shook hands with both of his own.

"Dear old Hogwarts," he said, looking up at the castle and smiling. It didn't reach his eyes. "How good it is to be here, how good...Viktor, come along, into the warmth...you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..."

Karkaroff beckoned forward one of his students. As the boy passed, I caught a glimpse of a prominent curved nose and thick black eyebrows.

"Harry - _it's Krum_!" Ron hissed, looking almost ready to faint.

We returned inside and Ron continued talking.

"I don't believe it!" Ron said stunned, as the Hogwarts students filed back up the steps behind the party from Durmstrang. "Krum, Harry! _Viktor Krum!"_

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," Hermione said.

_"Only a Quidditch player?"_ Ron said, looking at her as though he couldn't believe his ears. "Hermione - he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

As we recrossed the entrance hall with the rest of the Hogwarts students heading for the Great Hall, I saw Lee Jordan jumping up and down on the soles of his feet to get a better look at the back of Krum's head. Several sixth-year girls were frantically searching their pockets as they walked -

"Oh I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me -"

"D'you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

_"Really,"_ Hermione said loftily as we passed the girls, now squabbling over the lipstick.

_"I'm_ getting his autograph if I can," Ron said. "You haven't got a quill, have you, Harry?"

"Nope, they're upstairs in my bag," Harry said.

"Anne, Neville?"

"Nope," we said.

Ron was seriously starting to freak out. He even took a seat facing the Great Hall's big doors, were Krum and his friends stood hopelessly watching were to sit.

The students from Beauxbatons had chosen seats at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around the Great Hall with glum expressions on their faces. Three of them were still clutching scarves and shawls around their heads.

"It's not _that_ cold," Hermione said defensively. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?"

"Because they seem to care more for fashion than health?" I sarcastically remarked.

"Good to know I'm not the only one that thinks along the same lines," I heard someone say behind me.

Why it does that voice rang on my head?

I felt someone sit on my right side, but I still didn't move to look over.

"Fancy seeing you again, stranger,"

I almost chocked. I quickly turned around and found myself staring into silver orbs that shone amusedly.

"Le – Leo?" I stupidly spluttered.

He was wearing one of those heavy coats the Durmstrang boys wore. Every girl in our table was looking over at us with either a stupid smile or glaring directly at me. It didn't matter. Leo was smiling brightly at me, and that made my heart warm.

Is this the feeling you get when you like someone?

"Is James actually. James Leo," he replied.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Should I call you Jimmy?"

He laughed.

"Only you, darling,"

I blushed.

Someone cleared a throat. I slowly turned around. My friends were looking over at me with questioning glances. Hermione was the one whom cleared her voice.

"Oh," Jimmy smirked. "Looks like we have company."

I snorted.

"James, this are my friends," I motioned to Neville on my other side, "Neville Longbottom."

"Nice to meet you," he smiled.

"Hermione Granger," I pointed across of me.

"Oh, I never thought I would talk with someone of Durmstrang. How is it there?" she asked eagerly.

Jimmy looked around the place and smiled faintly.

"Certainly cold. Hogwarts feels more like home."

"Ron Weasley," he didn't even react, just kept looking over the entrance. "The Krum fan," I ended saying. Ron only waved his hand and continued eagerly craning up his neck.

And beyond all my anger, I finally pointed to Harry.

"And this is Harry Potter."

Harry looked like he expected some kind of reaction from James. Every people we had met so far had looked at his scar and known him to be the boy who lived.

"Really?" James asked curiously. "I heard you were a Seeker – a good one."

Harry's eyes widened. "Um – yeah."

"Over here! Come and sit over here!" Ron hissed. "Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space -"

"What?"

"Too late," Ron said bitterly.

Viktor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. I could see Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looking very smug about this. As I watched, Malfoy bent forward to speak to Krum.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," said Ron scathingly. "I bet Krum can see right through him, though… bet he gets people fawning over him all the time… Where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry… I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed."

James looked sideways at me. "Is he serious?" he whispered.

I solemnly nodded.

"They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot," said Harry. The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.

"It's not like we hadn't seem goblets before," James snorted.

Up at the staff table, Filch, the caretaker, was adding chairs. He was wearing his moldy old tailcoat in honor of the occasion.

"But there are only two extra people," Harry said. "Why's Filch putting out four chairs, who else is coming?"

"The jury perhaps?" Neville said.

"Eh?" said Ron vaguely. He was still staring avidly at Krum.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their House tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line were Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When their headmistress appeared, the pupils from Beauxbatons leapt to their feet. A few of the Hogwarts students laughed. The Beauxbatons party appeared quite unembarrassed, however, and did not resume their seats until Madame Maxime had sat down on Dumbledore's left-hand side. Dumbledore remained standing, and a silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and most particularly guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"No one's making you stay!" Hermione hissed harshly.

"She's just bitter," James mentioned casually.

"How so?" Neville asked. James was going to say something but Mr. Dumbledore continued talking.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and I saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation. The plates in front of us filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; there was a greater variety of dishes in front of them than I had ever seen, including several that were definitely foreign.

"What's that?" said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," said Hermione.

"Bless you."

"It's _French_," Hermione said. "I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

"It doesn't look promising," James poked it with a spoon.

"I'll take your word for it," Ron said, helping himself.

"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called, making me look away from them.

"Thrivin'," Hagrid called back.

"Yeah, I'll just bet they are," Ron muttered. "Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it. Hagrid's fingers."

"My prayers go with you," James shook his head sadly at us. Looking around him, Neville and I shared a worried look. Were they really that bad?

At that moment, a voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"

It was the girl from Beauxbaton who had laughed during Dumbledore's speech. She had finally removed her muffler. A long sheet of silvery-blonde hair fell almost to her waist. She had large, deep blue eyes, and very white, even teeth.

Ron went purple, Neville's face turned slightly pink, but James just looked at her and turned around like if it was not worth it.

"Yeah, have it," Harry said, pushing the dish toward the girl.

"You 'ave finished wiz it?"

"Yeah," Ron said breathlessly. "Yeah, it was excellent."

The girl picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. Ron was still goggling at the girl as though he had never seen one before.

I grabbed my spoon and poked his cheek with it.

I sighed. "We lost him."

Harry laughed. The sound seemed to bring back Ron from whatever sort of trance he went.

"She's a _veela_," Ron said.

"Of course she isn't," Hermione said. "I don't see anyone else gaping at her like an idiot!"

I looked around and said, "I don't quite agree with you, Hermione."

As the girl crossed the Hall, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have become temporarily speechless, just like Ron.

"I'm telling you, that's not a normal girl!" Ron said, leaning sideways so he could keep a clear view of her. "They don't make them like that at Hogwarts!"

"I take that as an offence," I glared at him.

"They make them okay at Hogwarts," Harry said, and I saw him staring at the Ravenclaw table. I looked over my shoulder at where he was looking, and saw him looking at Cho Chang. I scowled.

"Completely agree with you, Harry," James whispered and I noticed him looking subtly down the table. Ginny was smacking someone on the head.

I smiled slowly. This was interesting.

"When you've both put your eyes back in," Hermione said briskly, "You'll be able to see who's just arrived."

She was pointinig up at the staff table. The two remaining empty seats had just been filled. Ludo Bagman was now sitting on Professor Karkaroff's other side, while Mr. Crouch, Percy's boss, was next to Madame Maxime.

"What are _they_ doing here?" Neville asked in surprise.

"They organized the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Hermione. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start."

When the second course arrived we noticed a number of unfamiliar desserts too. Ron examined an odd sort of pale blancmange closely, then moved it carefully a few inches to his right, so that it would be clearly visible from the Ravenclaw table. The vela-like did not return, and James took advantage to eat it.

Once the golden plates had been wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up again. A pleasant sort of tension seemed to fill the Hall now. I felt a slight thrill of excitement, wondering what was coming. Neville and James leaned forward in excitement too.

"The moment has come," Dumbledore said, smiling around at the sea of upturned faces. "The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket -"

"The what?" Neville muttered.

James and I shrugged.

" - just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation" - there was a smattering of polite applause - "and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports."

I clapped politely.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament, and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts," Dumbledore said. "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch."

Filch approached Dumbledore carrying a very large wooden chest that had jewels all over it. That surely must be old.

A murmur of excited interest rose from the watching students.

"The instructions the champions have to face have already been examined by Mr. Crouch and Mr. Bagman," said Dumbledore as Filch left the chest carefully on the table before them, "and they have made the necessary arrangements for each challenge. There will be three tasks, spaced through the school year, and they will test the champions in many different ways; their magical powers- their daring- their powers of deduction- and, of course, their ability of cope with danger."

At the last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that no one seemed to be breathing.

At this last word, the Hall was filled with a silence so absolute that nobody seemed to be breathing.

"As you know, three champions compete in the tournament," Dumbledore went on calmly, "one from each of the participating schools. They will be marked on how well they perform each of the Tournament tasks and the champion with the highest total after task three will win the Triwizard Cup. The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: the Goblet of Fire."

Dumbledore now took out his wand and tapped three times upon the top of the casket. He pulled out a wooden cup – with blue flames.

"The blue flames of eternal life!" James gasped.

"Anybody wishing to submit themselves as champion must write their name and school clearly upon a slip of parchment and drop it into the goblet," Dumbledore said. "Aspiring champions have twenty-four hours in which to put their names forward. Tomorrow night, Halloween, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged most worthy to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage students yields to temptations, I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line."

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure, therefore, that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet. Now, I think it is time for bed. Good night to you all."

"An Age Line!" Fred Weasley said, his eyes glinting, as we all made our way across the Hall to the doors into the entrance hall. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"But I don't think anyone under seventeen will stand a chance," said Hermione, "we just haven't learned enough…"

"Speak for yourself," James laughed. "In Durmstrang if you want it, you have it. We don't give up easily."

"You'll try and get it, won't you, Harry?" asked George.

"Why would he try to enter?" Neville asked nervously.

"Where is he?" snapped Ron looking over the crowd. He apparently wasn't paying attention to us.

"Dumbledore didn't say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?"

But this query was answered almost instantly; we were level with the Slytherin table now, and Karkaroff had just bustled up to his students.

"Back to the ship, then," James sighed. "It was nice to see you again, Anya."

"See you later then, I guess," I said awkwardly. With a wave, he walked over his classmates.

"Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?" I heard Karkaroff ask in a fatherly tone.

I saw Krum shake his head as he pulled his furs back on. "Professor, I vood like some vine," said one of the other Durmstrang boys hopefully.

"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy"

Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the doors, reaching them at exactly the same moment as the five of us. Harry stopped to let him walk through first.

"Thank you," said Karkaroff carelessly, glancing at him. And then Karkaroff froze. He turned his head back to Harry and stared at him as though he couldn't believe his eyes. Behind their headmaster, the students from Durmstrang came to a halt too. Karkaroff's eyes moved slowly up Harry's face and fixed upon his scar.

The Durmstrang students were staring curiously at Harry too. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw comprehension dawn on a few of their faces. The boy with food all down his front nudged the girl next to him and pointed openly at Harry's forehead.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," said a growling voice from behind us.

Karkaroff spun around and all the color left his face.

"You!" he said, staring at Moody.

"Me," Moody growled back. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway."

It was true; half the students in the Hall were now waiting behind us, looking over one another's shoulders to see what was causing the holdup.

Without another word, Professor Karkaroff swept his students away with him. Moody watched him until he was out of sight, his magical eye fixed upon his back, a look of intense dislike upon his mutilated face.


	19. Deciding for the Champions

Being Saturday, students usually would have got breakfast more later. And I in fact, would have slept until ten in the morning. But I was excited to see who would put his/her name on the Goblet of fire.

Neville and I specially raised very early this morning for it. When we went to the Great Hall, we found everyone eating while staring at the Goblet. It had been placed in the center of the hall on the stool that normally bore the Sorting Hat. A thin golden line had been traced on the floor, forming a circle ten feet around it in every direction.

We found James eating bacon in our table, looking bored.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Morning," I replied smiling.

"Someone already had put his name on it?" Neville asked as we took a seat.

"All my lot," he scowled at his goblet.

I raised my eyebrows.

"Karkaroff only brought students he thought worthy of being a champion," James explained. "He got rather… disappointed when he discovered I couldn't participate."

"Disappointed?" I voiced.

"More like yelled at me for being some scum that hinders around," he smirked. But the mirth didn't reach his eyes. "Besides that, no. I hadn't seen anyone from Hogwarts or Beauxbatons, for that matter."

"I think some of them might have put theirs last night after everyone went to bed," Neville said, taking a sip from his pumpkin juice. James wrinkled is nose. "It would be embarrassing to put your name in and not be chosen. Or that the Slytherins will tease you about your imminent death."

"You have thought this a lot," I stated curiously.

Neville turned a faint pink.

"Gran wanted me to enter the Tournament." He sighed. "Thank god I'm not of age!"

"Look!" James exclaimed. The Weasley twins walked in front of the Goblet.

"Ready, Fred?"

"Ready, George,"

"Bottoms up," they smiled at each other before twining their about each other and drinking down a potion. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes like a diver preparing for a fifty-foot drop. Then, with the eyes of every person in the entrance hall upon him, he took a great breath and stepped over the line.

For a split second I thought it had worked - George certainly thought so, for he let out a yell of triumph and leapt after Fred - but next moment, there was a loud sizzling sound, and both twins were hurled out of the golden circle as though they had been thrown by an invisible shot-putter. They landed painfully, ten feet away on the cold stone floor.

Once they sat up I watched through the crowd as their hair turned white and grew long and long white beards appeared.

"But you said-!"

"You said-!"

The two twins began before they attacked each other and began wrestling on the ground.

"Isn't supposedly your Headmaster to be the best wizard or what?" James called at them.

The entrance hall rang with laughter. Even Fred and George joined in after they stopped wrestling, once they had gotten to their feet and taken a good look at each other's beards.

"I did warn you," a deep, amused voice said, and everyone turned to see Professor Dumbledore coming out of the Great Hall. He surveyed Fred and George, his eyes twinkling. "I suggest you both go up to Madam Pomfrey. She is already tending to Miss Fawcett, of Ravenclaw, and Mr. Summers, of Hufflepuff, both of whom decided to age themselves up a little too. Though I must say, neither of their beards are anything as fine as yours."

Fred and George took off for the hospital wing with Lee right behind them, still laughing.

Taking a good look around, I noticed all was decorated especially for Halloween. A cloud of live bats was fluttering around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of carved pumpkins leered from every corner.

We talked a lot about the Tournament and got to know James better. He and Neville joked once in a while, something I had never see Neville do before.

As the morning passed slowly, we saw Angelina Johnson come and announce she put her name on (only one with enough balls to do so in the presence of everyone) and when the Beauxbatons lot came with Madame Maxine in the lead. Putting them on a line, they started throwing pieces of parchment into the Goblet, each time the blue flames roaring.

Later then, we took James to do a tour around Hogwarts.

"As you can see, is easy to get lost when you try to reach a classroom –"

"Particularly Transfiguration," Neville added.

"Yes, specially that one," and then we rounded a corner and –

"I think we got lost," James said.

* * *

Then we proceeded to lead him over the library.

"The books can fly?! Wicked!" James had yelled.

Every head turned to look at us. Neville slapped his forehead and I had winced.

Needless to say, Madam Pince threw us out.

* * *

It was supper time when we returned to the Great Hall.

We had talked about our three last years. Well, Neville had made me told them my 'adventures' with the golden trio. James and Neville (whom hadn't been on the stories) were a very good audience, gaping and exclaiming in glee or furry when I narrated it.

To my own surprise, and after making them swear to not tell anyone, I began counting my Uncle Sirius true tale.

When I had finished, Neville was gaping openly at me.

"That actually explains a lot," he said.

It confused me James expression though. Every once I told them what really happened and how really Sirius was, he was listening eagerly to me, like if he was absorbing the information.

I just hope telling them was the wisest choice.

* * *

We met Hermione, Ron and Harry in the table and sat down. Then Hermione told me they visited Hagrid and he sent his blessings for me. And then Ron told us that Hagrid was wearing an aftershave, eu de cologne or whatever, and that he was wearing that horrible suit of his he wore last year on Buckbeak's appeal.

"Wait, Hagrid got himself a girlfriend?!" I exclaimed.

"Weird, isn't it?" Ron whispered dramatically.

After we eat, the tables cleared and Mr. Dumbledore stood up. We all watched him expectantly.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them to please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Dumbledore waved his wand and all the candles in the room went out, except for the ones in the pumpkins. It was now kinda dark in the Great Hall, so the flames of the Goblet of Fire stood out more.

"Any second," Lee Jordan whispered two seats down us.

The flames inside the goblet turned suddenly red again. Sparks began to fly from it. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it the whole room gasped.

Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

"I'm not surprised," James sighed as there was a storm of applause for his fellow classmate.

I saw Viktor Krum rise from the Slytherin table and slouch up toward Dumbledore; he turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" boomed Karkaroff, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her, Ron!" Harry shouted as the girl who so resembled a veela got gracefully to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said over the noise, nodding toward the remainder of the Beauxbatons party.

The word was a bit of an understatement. Two girls had dissolved into tears and were sobbing with their heads on their arms.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could almost taste it. The Hogwarts champion next…

And the Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

"The Hogwarts champion," he called, "is Cedric Diggory!"

The uproar from the Hufflepuff table was deafening. James and Neville, being excited, began to whistle in joy.

Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to his or her feet, screaming and stamping, as Cedric made his way past them, grinning broadly, and headed off toward the chamber behind the teachers' table. Indeed, the applause for Cedric went on so long that it was some time before Dumbledore could make himself heard again.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore called happily as at last the tumult died down. "Well, we now have our three champions. I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real -"

The Goblet of Fire had turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it another couple of pieces of parchment, which looked combined at the ends.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and sized the combined parchment. He held it out and stared at the names written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out -

_"Harry Potter."_


	20. A Fourth Champion!

_So much for trying to keep him safe._

I stared wide eyed at Harry. How could have happened this?

Every head in the Hall swiveled to look at Harry. He was frozen, his eyes wide.

I felt my heart reach out for him. Harry was… scared. For the first time in these three years, I had seen Harry look – worried. I had seen him angry, determined, sad – but never scared.

There was no applause like with Cedric, Fleur and Krum. Then they started whispering angrily, but not loud enough to let me decipher what they said.

Harry turned to both Hermione and Ron, then looked over at me with a blank stare.

"I didn't put my name in," he said. "You know I didn't."

I scrutinized my eyes at him. There were still those shocked and scared emerald eyes.

I nodded at him. I believe him.

"Harry Potter!" Mr. Dumbledore called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push.

Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. Everyone followed his movement with their eyes. After what seemed like an hour, he was right in front of Dumbledore, all the teachers staring at him.

I saw Mr. Dumbledore mouth something, but he wasn't smiling. There was no twinkle behind those spectacles I had come and used to see.

Before he went through the door out of the Great Hall, Harry looked over at Hagrid. He wasn't smiling too. In fact, he didn't move at all.

Looking brokenhearted, Harry disappeared.

The moment he closed the door, the whispering turned to yells and indignant shouts.

"He's a cheat!" "He's not even 17 yet!" "How did he get picked?"

I was surprised that the shouts came mainly from the Hufflepuff table, and not Slytherin.

"When you said Harry was a magnet for trouble, I thought you were joking," James said dryly.

"I never joke," I told him softly, my gaze didn't waver from were Harry had gone.

"Do you think they will really let him join?" Neville asked quietly. Instead of seeing him shocked, I could see he was more worried about how this happened.

"I hope not," Hermione said, seeming to snap out of her shock. "But there's a problem. The contract is binding."

"So that means…" Neville trailed.

"That he's bound to compete once his name was put on the Goblet," James ended in a deadly tone.

Ron didn't talk at all, but I could see his face turn darker at every shout that rang in the Hall.

We bid good night to James and returned to Gryffindor Tower. When we entered, we found all the Gryffindors decorating the common room with red and gold banners, Fred and George were carrying food (probably from the kitchens) around.

I stared at them in disbelief. Weren't they worried about _how_ this happened, either that there was a Champion from Gryffindor?

Feeling very ashamed of my own House, I wished goodnight to Neville and went upstairs to my dormitory.

Hermione was sitting on my bed looking worried.

"Do you believe him?" she asked quietly.

I nodded, taking a seat opposite at her. "I'm still a little angry for his comment the other night, but yes, I believe Harry."

We stared in silence at the other beds. Lavender and Parvati still haven't arrived, probably celebrating downstairs.

"What are we going to do, Annie?"

I looked over at the photo of the Black twins, smiling at the camera. Was there once a time when everything was easy? When no one had to worry about the War?

"We'll be by his side."

* * *

Next morning I woke up early like yesterday. I had the slightest hope that everything that occurred yesterday night was only a dream or a figment of my memory.

But the moment I entered the Great Hall, I knew I was just being foolish.

The Hufflepuffs, always friendly to Gryffindors, were giving our tables cold stares and snarls. The Ravenclaws were on their side, saying once and again how Harry was a cheat, how he got in to gain more fame.

Hermione tried to call me over her, but I couldn't stand this.

I went to the library next.

One fifth year Hufflepuff and a Sixth year Gryffindor were fighting, throwing punches and lame kicks to what they could reach. Madam Pince certainly didn't do a good job trying to separate them.

"UGH! Can't someone be in peace?" I yelled.

Every corner I rounded, I found students gossiping about how good looking Cedric was, or that Fleur would be graceful on this, that Krum is going to be unstoppable, and small comments about Harry will maybe make it without a scratch.

My head was beginning to hurt with all this topic. I went outside to the Black Lake, the only deserted place around.

I took refuge under a lonely three, near the Durmstrang boat. It was chilly morning, and as I reflected what happened yesterday while staring to the water's reflection, I didn't hear the steps that approached me, one of them insecurely, the other determined.

"Annie," I heard my bushy haired friend call. Snapping out of my reverie, I looked over at her. Hermione was standing there with a serious expression… and behind her stood a very awkward Harry, looking anywhere but me.

"Hey Mione," I sighed.

"I thought you would be in the Great Hall with –"

"James?" I raised an eyebrow at her. Hermione flushed slightly. Did I really had stopped paying attention to my best friend because of my stubbornness? "No. I still haven't met him or Neville today."

I stood up, brushing a little my skirt with my hands. Without even making my mind to it, or giving a warning, I swiftly walked up to Harry and gave him a hug, placing my arms around his neck and gently resting my chin on his shoulder.

Harry's body was stiff at the sudden action, but he slowly relaxed, sighing and he too put his arms around my torso.

My heart thumped oddly.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

Harry didn't react.

"No," he murmured softly.

"It would be strange if you were," I said cheekily. Harry chuckled.

"Look Anne, I am sorry –"

"Don't worry, it doesn't matter," I interrupted him.

"No, it really matters. I shouldn't have said that," he argued.

"Harry, it's okay. Really," I let go of him. I smiled at him. A little reluctantly, he returned it.

Hermione was smiling at us.

"So, tell us Harry," I sat down on the grass again. "What's the verdict?"

Harry then proceeded to tell us what happened last night and what was said. Harry looked deeply relieved when we believed his story.

"Well, of course I knew you hadn't entered yourself," Hermione said. "The look on your face when Dumbledore read out your name! But the question is, who did put it in? Because Moody's right, Harry… I don't think any student could have done it… they'd never be able to fool the Goblet, or get over Dumbledore's -"

"Have you seen Ron?" Harry interrupted.

Hermione hesitated.

"Erm… yes… he was at breakfast," she said.

"Does he still think I entered myself?"

"Well… no, I don't think so… not really," said Hermione awkwardly.

"What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?"

"Oh Harry, isn't it obvious?" Hermione said despairingly. "He's jealous!"

_"Jealous?"_ Harry said incredulously. "Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?"

"No...no...I think I know what she's getting at, Harry," I said slowly, frowning some. "But I never thought that Ron would reach this limit so sooner."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, Harry," Hermione said patiently. "It's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is. I know it's not your fault," she added quickly. "I know you don't ask for it… but - well - you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous - he's always shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many…"

"Great," said Harry bitterly. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it… People gawping at my forehead everywhere I go…"

"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione said shortly. "Tell him yourself. It's the only way to sort this out."

"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" Harry said, so loudly that several owls in a nearby tree took flight in alarm. "Maybe he'll believe I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken or -"

"That's not funny," I interrupted his rant quietly. He looked over at me. "Not at all."

"Harry, I've been thinking - you know what we've got to do, don't you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the -"

_"Write to Sirius_. You've got to tell him what's happened. He asked you to keep him posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts… It's almost as if he expected something like this to happen. I brought some parchment and a quill out with me -"

"Come off it," said Harry, looking around to check that we couldn't be overheard, but the grounds were quite deserted. "He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He'll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone's entered me in the Triwizard Tournament -"

"He'd want you to tell him," said Hermione sternly. "He's going to find out anyway."

"How?"

"Harry, this Tournament is really famous. You're famous. A perfect combination to attract the _Daily Prophet_. It's surprising they haven't written about this by now," I said. "And Hermione's right. Sirius's going to heard this from _you_."

"Okay, okay, I'll write to him," said Harry, throwing a piece of toast into the lake. We stood and watched it floating there for a moment, before a large tentacle rose out of the water and scooped it beneath the surface. Then we returned to the castle.

"Whose owl am I going to use?" Harry said as we climbed the stairs. "He told me not to use Hedwig again."

"Ask Ron if you can borrow -"

"I'm not asking Ron for anything," Harry said flatly.

"Use my owl then," I told him.

We went up to the Owlery. Hermione gave Harry a piece of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink, then strolled around the long lines of perches, looking at all the different owls, while Harry sat down against a wall and wrote his letter.

"Finished," Harry said once he finished.

"Give it to me," I told him.

It read:

_Dear Sirius,_

_You told me to keep you posted on what's happening at Hogwarts, so here goes – I don't know if you've heard, but the Triwizard Tournament's happening this year and on Saturday night I got picked as a fourth champion. I don't know who put my name in the Goblet of Fire, because I didn't. The other Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory, from Hufflepuff._

_Hope you're okay, and Buckbeak,_

_Harry._

I borrowed the quill and wrote:

_PS. I'm going to keep an eye on this and try to gather information. Anya._

Hedwig fluttered down onto Harry's shoulder and held out her leg.

"I can't use you," Harry told her, looking around for the school owls. "I've got to use one of these."

Hedwig gave a very loud hoot and took off

"Caleb," I called softly. My tiny companion flew down to me rather excited. He hooted expectantly and held out his leg. As I tied the letter on his leg, I said, "I need you to give this to Padfoot, please."

After Cal had flown off, Harry tried to stroke Hedwig, but she clicked her beak furiously and soared up into the rafters out of reach.

"First Ron, then you," Harry said angrily. _"This isn't my fault."_


	21. Frustration

The next days were the worst for Harry. Every house was against him, his best friend stabbed him - GREAT SCOTT! One of the Divination's homework predictions came true! How couldn't I notice that quickly?!

Sorry, sorry – back at the problem at hand, everything in Hogwarts was turned upside down.

Professor Sprout was rather distant to the Gryffindors, even Neville, only top student at her class. Hermione tried very hard to get Harry and Ron to talk each other in vain. They answered HER normally, but did not look at each other's eye.

It was annoying.

As for me, I'm really pissed off as to how my housemates, my fellow classmates, and even the only respectable Slytherins (like Blaise Zabini and the Greengrass sisters) were acting to all this Tournament. Unit between schools, my arse.

I became really closer to Neville, and to my slightly suspicion, to James too. I mean, that's strange. I just had met him over one month, but it was like I had known him all my life… like if he was a calming presence to my stuck up nerves.

Trelawney had stopped predicting my 'mortal' accidents and decided to make improvised death endings for Harry. And then we had our class Charms where we were learning how to 'summon things'.

"It's really simple," Professor Flitwick had said cheerily. A nice change from the sneering voices I had come to get used to these couple of weeks. "The caster has to really want what they're summoning. Either way, I suspect the spell isn't going to react at all if you do otherwise."

And I tried.

And tried.

Almost ripped my hair in the process.

Thrown my book in anger, in which Professor Flitwick had to sadly take five points from Gryffindor.

And then I had finally snapped.

"_Accio _book!"

The book had flown into my outstretched arms.

Mm… I think being mad really helps sometimes.

But Harry didn't crack up like me, so he was given extra Homework, besides Neville.

"It's really not that difficult, Harry," Hermione tried to reassure him as we left Flitwick's class – she had been making objects zoom across the room to all the lesson. "You just weren't concentrating properly -"

"Wonder why that was," Harry muttered darkly as Cedric Diggory headed to one of his classes, a bunch of giggling girls following behind, not before giving Harry a look of utter disgust. It was really rude actually. Harry wasn't bad looking…

"It's going to get worse," Neville said darkly too. I was surprised at the tone. "Double Potions is next."

Ah, the world makes sense again.

* * *

When we arrived at Snape's dungeon, the Slytherins were already waiting outside, each of them wearing a large badge on their robes. For a wild moment, I thought they were from S.P.E.W, but I leaned a little closer and saw something that made my blood boil.

**SUPPORT ****CEDRIC DIGGORY -**

**THE ****REAL ****HOGWARTS CHAMPION!**

"Like them, Potter?" Malfoy said loudly as Harry approached. "And this isn't all they do - look!"

He pressed his badge into his chest, and the message upon it vanished, to be replaced by another one, which glowed green:

**POTTER STINKS**

The Slytherins howled with laughter. Each of them pressed their badges too, until the message _POTTER STINKS_ was shining brightly all around us. I saw Harry turning beat red from anger.

"Oh _very_ funny," Hermione said sarcastically to Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherin girls, who were laughing harder than anyone, "really _witty_."

Ron was leaning on the wall between Dean and Seamus. He wasn't laughing, but he didn't stick up for Harry either.

Did he really felt so left out to be this cruel to his friend?

_We had pretty much in common apparently._

"Want one, Granger?" Malfoy said, holding out a badge to Hermione. "I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

I crossed over at Malfoy and slapped his badge out of his hand.

"Hey!"

"Congratulations, Hogwarts students for the most creative insults I have ever heard," I exclaimed sarcastically. "I mean, even one of the Skrewts would have managed to do some damage."

"You filthy, scumbag –"

I was going to draw my wand, but Harry beat me to it and pointed his to Malfoy's face, putting himself so I was facing his back.

Everyone backed down the corridor.

"Harry!" Hermione hissed.

"Go on, then, Potter," Malfoy said quietly then, using his slapped hand to draw out his own wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now - do it, if you've got the guts -"

For a split second, they looked into each other's eyes, then, at exactly the same time, both acted.

_"Furnunculus!"_ Harry yelled.

_"Densaugeo!"_ Malfoy screamed.

Jets of light shot from both wands, hit each other in midair, and ricocheted off at angles - Harry's hit Goyle in the face, and Malfoy's hit Hermione. Goyle bellowed and put his hands to his nose, where great ugly boils were springing up - Hermione, whimpering in panic, was clutching her mouth.

I gasped, "Hermione!"

I ran towards her. She was clutching her mouth with both hands, eyes wide in panic. I didn't notice, but Ron too, had ran towards us.

"Hermione," he said quietly, "let me look."

Whimpering, she let him drag her hand out of her face. It wasn't a pretty sight. Hermione's front teeth - already larger than average - were now growing at an alarming rate; she was looking more and more like a beaver as her teeth elongated, past her bottom lip, toward her chin - panic-stricken, she felt them and let out a terrified cry.

"And what is all this noise about?" came a soft, deadly voice.

Snape had arrived. The Slytherins clamored to give their explainations; Snape pointed a long yellow finger at Malfoy and said, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir -"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" Harry shouted.

" - and he hit Goyle - look -"

Snape examined Goyle, whose face now resembled something that would have been at home in a book on poisonous fungi.

"Hospital wing, Goyle," Snape said calmly.

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!"

He forced Hermione to show Snape her teeth - she was doing her best to hide them with her hands, though this was difficult as they had now grown down past her collar. Pansy Parkinson and the other Slytherin girls were doubled up with silent giggles, pointing at Hermione from behind Snape's back. I glared at them harshly.

Snape looked coldly at Hermione, then said, "I see no difference."

Hermione let out a whimper; her eyes filled with tears, she turned on her heel and ran, ran all the way up the corridor and out of sight.

I felt myself shake with anger. How… Dare… HE?!

Harry and Ron started shouting a lot of curses to Snape. It didn't made me relax a bit.

My eyes were stinging. I didn't felt the familiar wetness of a tear. I wasn't crying, but I could feel like if my eyes were burning in fire.

A _pleasant _fire of rage.

"Let's see," I heard Snape talk in the most pleased voice he could muster. The slimy tosser. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detentions."

I turned around and started heading towards the Hospital Wing.

"Barton!" I stopped on my tracks. "Where do you think you're going?"

"What does it look like?" I asked him sardonically. "I'm going to help my friend."

"I warn, you. If you walk away Barton, I will take fifty points and gain you a detention."

I scowled heavily. My eyes burned more.

Whirling around, I glared directly at Snape. I didn't pay attention to anyone else. But I could feel them staring.

"Go and play with your chemistry set, there are things of major importance like my friend than your stupid assumptions." At this, I saw Ron look away.

"One last chance, Barton," Snape said deadly quiet.

Everyone stared between us.

"You can go to hell, Snapey," I told him. My eyes were finally reaching a point of exploding.

Snape's eyes widened dramatically and somehow paled, resembling a piece of parchment.

Giving him a final cold stare, I went to search for my friend.

* * *

When I arrived, Madam Pomfrey was bending over Hermione looking quite frustrated.

"Miss Granger, what happened?"

But Hermione couldn't talk, managing to let out only a whimper.

"Say again?"

"She was hit by the Densaugeo spell," I said.

"Oh, you're here too, Miss Barton," Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Let's see. I'm going to manually shrink your teeth, dear. It will hurt you a bit, so this will take a time. Remember to tell me when to stop."

Madam Pomfrey muttered some spell and Hermione's teeth glowed white. Inch by inch, her teeth started shrinking up.

It took a long time, but an hour later, Hermione's teeth were at the size of her chin.

"Wait here, I need to give you a potion so it doesn't cause damage to your jaw," Madam Pomfrey retired to her office shortly.

Carefully, Hermione fingered her teeth, looking quite panicked like if this could break them down.

The matron returned with a small bottle of bluish liquid on it.

"Bottoms up," she said handing it to Hermione. Staring at it warily, Hermione drank from the bottle in just one gulp. She closed her eyes and grimaced.

"Good. Now this will be slower. Perhaps you should go to the Great Hall, Miss Barton," Madam Pomfrey looked over at me with wistful eyes. "Believe me, you will be starving in half an hour, and we'll still on the work."

"Are you sure?" I asked, but looked over at Hermione. She nodded. I sighed. "I'll come later, I guess."

And I went to the Great Hall, were two worried boys waited by the Gryffindor table.

"Annie!" Neville exclaimed when he saw me. "How's Hermione?"

"She's fine," I smiled at both. "Madam Pomfrey's still reducing her teeth and suggested me to eat, though." James pushed towards me a plate with a hamburger and French fries. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Jimmy, ma boy, you're full of surprises. How did you get this?"

James smirked. "The elves on the kitchens can be a little too generous."

"Don't let Hermione hear you," Neville shuddered. We laughed. Hermione had tried to get Neville into S.P.E.W. and had gave him a lecture on the elves' rights. Neville somehow had gotten sleepy, and Hermione started rambling on and on while glaring. To finally shut her up, Neville paid a sickle for a badge and she hand bothered him again.

"It's amusing actually," James smiled, grabbing w=one of the French fries as I bite into my hamburger. Hmmm! It was delicious! "To see her so passionate about something that hadn't changed in the last six thousand years."

"That's Hermione for you," I heard someone said behind me. I turned around and saw Ron smiling at the mention of our friend. He eyed my food but then cleared his throat. "We've detention tomorrow night at Snape's dungeon."

"'We'?" I asked.

"Oh, Ron and Harry got detention too," Neville sheepishly said.

I looked over at my redhead friend. Ron was eyeing the French fries.

"Here," I passed them to him.

He smiled brightly. "Thanks Anne!" and he walked out of the Great Hall.

Continuing biting, Neville and James both looked at me with raised eyebrows.

"What?"

"We thought you were on Harry's side…" Neville trailed.

"Yes…"

"Then why you talk to Ron normally?" James queried.

Oh, that.

"I kind of see myself in Ron," I said. They looked quite shocked. "I mean, he doesn't talk to Harry because he feels left out. I can relate myself on that."

"Yet, you don't act like a jerk," James mused, looking at the ceiling, which was now showing a bright colored orange and blue sky.

"Well," I shrugged. "We all have different ways to let out our frustration."

"Like your outburst this afternoon?" James chuckled amusedly.

"Yes, somewhat like that."

"You really look scary, though," Neville said. "I mean, your eyes practically changed of color."

"Seriously?" I wondered shocked. "How they were?"

"Like an icy blue – but it was just a moment, and then they were hazel again!"

I left my fork on the plate and stared absently behind them. Nat's word about my ancestors came to my mind.

_"You noticed that too, right?" Natasha stared at the first portrait of where our family began. "Poets always said that our eyes are windows to our soul. Our family took it quite literally. See, the colors never had to repeat, is a signature of our magic. But –" she looked over at me with raised eyebrows, "You broke the rules. You inherited your father's colors. It wasn't supposed to happen. Then again, they could probably change when you are of age or sooner."_

"Interesting…"


	22. Colder or Sad?

When it seemed that the news of Harry being a champion had worn off slightly, a new article written by Rita Skeeter made its appearance on the _Daily Prophet, _and well – it made things more unbearable.

_I suppose I get my strength from my parents. I know they'd be very proud of me if they could see me now…_

_Yes, sometimes at night I still cry about them, I'm not ashamed to admit it…_

_I know nothing will hurt me during the tournament, because they're watching over me…_

And it continued like that. Talking about Harry's personal life (that wasn't true at all), the champions of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang barely mentioned and their names misspelled, and poor Cedric hadn't been mentioned at all.

James whistled while I read aloud the article. I found him on my way to the library and he had decided to tag along.

"I'm bored," he had said.

_Harry has at last found love at Hogwarts. His close friend, Colin Creevey, says that Harry is rarely seen out of the company of one Hermione Granger, a stunningly pretty Muggle-born girl, who, like Harry, is one of the top students in the school._

"Poor, Harry," James said. "Skeeter's making him a cry baby." I sighed.

"All of this is rubbish," I commented dryly as I crashed the newspaper into a ball.

"And how's Harry taking this new point of view?"

"Well –"

_"Yeah, that's right!"_ we rounded the corner and found Harry shouting as he wheeled around in the corridor, looking like he had had about enough. "I've just been crying my eyes out over my dead mum, and I'm just off to do a bit more..."

"No - it was just - you dropped your quill."

It was Cho Chang. I had the sudden urge to laugh as I watched the color rise on Harry's face.

"Oh - right - sorry," he muttered, taking the quill back.

"Er...good luck on Tuesday," she said. "I really hope you do well."

And she walked past him, Chang smiling at us when she passed by our side. I gave her a polite smile.

Once she was away, James started chocking on his own laugh. Harry glared at him while his face turned a violent shade of purple. I chuckled against my will.

"Oh, shut it," he snapped.

James only laughed harder.

"That was smooth, chap," he wiped a tear away with his finger. "How are you going to let her notice you? Because I seriously doubt shouting at people will help you at all."

I felt my grin slowly falter.

… What?

"I –" Harry again blushed furiously.

"Yep. You're that obvious," James chuckled.

My head turned down swiftly. This…

"Look on the bright side. Chang isn't wearing a badge."

Harry seemed happier at this bit of information.

I felt… cold? Sad, perhaps? Not in the bad way, but just – disappointed?

Argh! I hate this feeling!

* * *

I admire my best friend. There's a reason why Hermione and I had worked so well together by four years. She's been the only one that had seen my snappish side since we met, and she has always found a way to calm me down when I most needed her.

Unlike Harry, Hermione expressed her anger with more work on the library. She didn't start shouting at bystanders like Harry, but just started chanting "ignore it, ignore it".

_"Stunningly pretty? Her?"_ Pansy Parkinson had shrieked the first time she had come face-to-face with Hermione after Rita's article had appeared. "What was she judging against - a chipmunk?"

"Possibly Skeeter just had a look at her face," Neville said.

"You said it, Nev," I laughed.

But Harry ended more depressed than before. When it was the day for our detention, it was the same day when the article came out. Ron, Harry and I were forced to pickle rat's brains in Snape's dungeon.

I had kept chanting "Ew, ew, ew, eurgh!" all the hour.

Besides that, both stubborn boys used me through to 'talk'.

"Anne, pass this to the git," Harry said.

"Annie, tell Potter I already finished with those," Ron commented.

"Annie, please tell Weasley that he made a mistake."

"Tell him he's wrong."

"Ah, Ron Weasley can't be wrong. It would be the end of the world!" Harry shouted on my right.

"Says the boy-who-lived and made his way to be champion!"

Thankfully, James had lent me his enchanted music player, and with earphones on my head, I tried to ignore the shouts that rang through the dark dungeon.

I discovered that Paramore is really useful in this times of emergency.

* * *

We weren't the only ones whom spent a lot of time on the library. Viktor Krum too, in fact.

It was a tad weird, actually. I mean, he couldn't be investigating spells for the first task, neither _studying_.

"He's here again," Neville sighed.

"And look whose following. Met the new hysterical fan club of Krum!" I said.

"James, are you sure you don't know why Krum's keep coming here?" Harry asked bored.

James shrugged. "Dunno, don't care."

One of the girls giggled shrilly, making me want to cover my ears.

"Oh, for goodness sake! He's not even good-looking!" Hermione hissed as she shut her book loudly, making us all cringe at the noise. "They only like him because he's famous! They wouldn't look twice at him if he couldn't do that Wonky Faint thing -"

"Wronski Feint," James and I said. Harry raised an eyebrow at us.

"That sounded…"

"Weird," Neville finished

James and I looked at each other and shrugged.

It wouldn't be the first time someone had called me weird.

* * *

On the Saturday before the first task, all students above third year were allowed to go to the village of Hogsmeade. James wasn't allowed to come as he was forbidden (along all the Durmstrang students) to not leave Hogwarts grounds.

Neville and I promised him a lot of candies from Honeydukes, making him brighten from his sullen mood. We had planned to go with Harry and Hermione.

"What about Ron, though?" Harry asked. "Don't you want to go with him?"

"Oh...well..." Hermione went slightly pink. "I thought we might meet up with him in the Three Broomsticks..."

"No," Harry said flatly.

"Oh Harry, this is so stupid -"

"I'll come, but I'm not meeting Ron, and I'm wearing my Invisibility Cloak."

"Oh alright then," Hermione snapped. "I hate when you wear the cloak. I never know if I'm looking at you or not."

So Harry went for his Invisibility cloak.

"Harry has an Invisibility cloak?" Neville asked astounded.

"Yes," I scratched the back of my neck. "I forgot to tell you that one, didn't I?"

And after Harry came down, we set off to Hogsmeade.

It felt so nice to be out of the castle. Although there were other students about, they seemed to be enjoying their time in Hogsmeade too much to really bother us. Most of the students were sporting _Support Cedric Diggory!_ badges, but no horrible remarks came our way for a change, and nobody was quoting that stupid article.

"People keep looking at _us_ now," Hermione said grumpily as we came out of Honeydukes Sweetshop later, eating large creamfilled chocolates. Neville and I with a bag each full of sweets. Mainly chocolates for me. "They think we're talking to thin air."

"Don't move your lips so much then."

"Come _on_, please just take off your cloak for a bit, no one's going to bother you here."

"Oh yeah?" Harry said. "Look behind you."

The three of us turned around and saw a woman. Her blond hair was set in elaborate curls and she wore heavily jeweled glasses studded with rhinestones. She had penciled-on eyebrows, and I saw when she talked to her photographer, that she had three gold teeth. She was carrying a crocodile-skin handbag that went horribly with her magenta colored robes.

Rita Skeeter, I presume.

Talking, both of them passed us without even glancing in our way.

"She's staying in the village. I bet she's coming to watch the first task," Harry hissed.

My heart dropped. We hadn't talked at all of the first task. I think we were either too worried, or too scared to really discuss what will probably come.

"She's gone," Hermione said, looking right through Harry toward the end of the street. "Why don't we go and have a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks, it's a bit cold, isn't it? You don't have to talk to Ron!" she added irritably, correctly interpreting his silence.

The Three Broomsticks was packed, mainly with Hogwarts students, but also with magical creatures I had only seen on books.

We edged to a spare table while Hermione went to buy the drinks. Hermione joined us a moment later and slipped us each a butterbeer.

"We still look silly talking to thin air..." Hermione muttered. "Lucky I brought something for us to do."

And she pulled out a notebook in which she had been keeping a record of S.P.E.W. members. At the top, our names were firstly written. It seemed that it was long ago when I happily helped the boys with their crazy predictions – to which my dismay, some of them came true.

"You know, maybe I should try and get some of the villagers involved in S.P.E.W.," Hermione said wistfully.

"Yeah, right," said Harry from under his invisibility cloak. "Hermione, when are you going to give up on this spew stuff?"

"Here we go again," Neville muttered. I sighed.

"When house-elves have decent wages and working conditions!" Hermione hissed like Neville had predicted. "You know, I'm starting to think it's time for more direct action. I wonder how you get into the school kitchens?"

"No idea," Harry said. "Ask Fred and George."

"Or James. He seems to know his way around," I added.

Hermione lapsed into thoughtful silence, occasionally scribbling something into her notebook. I didn't know what Harry was doing. Neville, like me, awkwardly drank from his butterbeer. I looked around at the carefree faces of the other students. How lucky they were to not be worrying if their friend was in danger.

"Look, it's Hagrid!" Hermione said suddenly.

The back of Hagrid's enormous, messy head- he had thankfully stopped trying to brush his hair- emerge over the crowd. I wondered how I didn't spot Hagrid earlier, but looking carefully, I saw that he had been leaning low, talking to Professor Moody. Hagrid had his usual gigantic tankard in front of him, while Moody was drinking from his hip flask. Madam Rosmerta, the landlady, didn't seem to think much of this; she was shooting Moody glares as she cleared up glasses from the tables around him. Perhaps she thought it was an insult to her drinks, but Moody had mentioned to Neville and I in our talk he preferred to do his own food. After all, we couldn't know if our tea was poisoned.

"All right, everyone?" said Hagrid loudly when they approached us.

"Hello," we said smiling back at him. I nodded at Moody in greetings and he did the same.

Moody limped around the table and bent down; I thought he was reading the S.P.E.W. notebook, until he muttered, "Nice cloak, Potter."

I stared at him in amazement. The large chunk missing from Moody's nose was particularly obvious at a few inches' distance. Moody grinned.

"Can your eye - I mean, can you -?"

"Yeah, it can see through Invisibility Cloaks," Moody said quietly. "And it's come in useful at times, I can tell you."

Hagrid was beaming down at Harry too. I was sure that Hagrid couldn't see him, but Moody had obviously told him Harry was here. Hagrid now bent down on the pretext of reading the S.P.E.W. notebook as well, and said in a whisper so low that only they could hear it, "Harry, meet me tonight at midnight at me cabin. Wear that cloak."

Straightening up, Hagrid said loudly, "Nice ter see yeh, Hermione, Neville, Anne," winked, and departed. Moody followed him.

"Why does Hagrid want me to meet him at midnight?" Harry said, very surprised.

"Dunno," the three of us sighed.

I looked at them bewildered.

"Dear Lord, I had rubbed it off on you two!"


	23. Dissapearing Flames

That afternoon, Neville and I searched for James, whom we found talking happily with a certain Miss Ginevra Weasley on the courtyard.

The first thing I came aware of, was that they were arguing about whose player from the Holyhead Harpies was the best.

"No, Gwenog Jones is the best. To be a beater, she had a rough training since she started playing. Believe me; I live with three Quidditch fans to know it."

"I beg to differ, Ginny," James intercepted smirking. "But I think no one would defeat Gwendolyn Morgan in this century."

"I see you have a soft spot for Chasers then, James," Neville said as we neared them.

To my surprise, a dull blush appeared on James cheeks.

"Hey Ginny," I smiled. She looked a little startled at my warm greeting. Ginny and I hadn't much as socialized like we did on the Leaky Cauldron before the beginning of my third and her second year.

"Hello guys," she greeted too. "Oh, I see you too brought something from Hogsmeade."

Following her stare, I saw a red bag besides James feet's. I looked knowingly at him, but James cleverly evaded my eyes.

The four of us chatted animatedly the rest of the afternoon. I discovered that Ginny wasn't only a Quidditch fan, but also played secretly behind her brothers' backs. Her favorite place was _Chaser._

Neville here had not so secretly looked at James at this bit of news.

The three of us also found out that James played Quidditch as well. And another surprise: he played in Durmstrang as a _Beater._

Impressing what you learn, huh?

Either way, we talked more of a lot of things, and embarrassingly enough, I let slip out that when I was five years old, I thought the _Alice in Wonderland _book was real and it made me want to follow a white rabbit I saw on a trip, and I somehow ended floating on a tree and then sprawled on the ground, in a _hole_.

Unfortunately, Ginny and James had laughed so hard, they had started calling me 'Bunny'.

Like I had said last year, bunnies are a bad omen. But someone believes me?

* * *

After spending time with them, I had decided to go to the library to read about the _Accio _spell. It was probably I had only managed to do it because of the spur of the moment. Meaning my anger.

Five thick books later (that Hermione likes to call 'light reading'); I went to the Gryffindor Tower.

Just when I walked in, I saw Ron standing awkwardly on the stairs, wearing small maroon pajamas that barely reached his ankles, and in front of the fireplace, was a fuming Harry.

Oh, I forgot uncle Sirius was going to talk to him. Ron noticed me behind Harry.

"Were you two talking?" he asked.

"What?" Harry snapped. Following his gaze, Harry turned around and jumped slightly. "Oh, hey Annie."

I waved at him, looking uncertainly between the two. "Hi."

"So, were you two talking to each other?" Ron asked again, fidgeting on his place.

"If we were, what's that got to do with you?" Harry snarled, turning around to face Ron again. "What are you doing down here at this time of night?"

"I just wondered where you -" Ron broke off, shrugging, but I saw it. There was a flick of worry on his blue eyes. He'd come down to see where Harry was. "Nothing. I'm going back to bed." He was going to turn around but Harry's shout stopped him.

"Just thought you'd come nosing around, did you?"

"Harry," I said warningly. This was going to get out of control. What if Harry finally snapped and started throwing punches at Ron?

"Sorry about that," said Ron, his face reddening with anger. "Should've realized you didn't want to be disturbed. I'll let you get on with practicing for your next interview in peace."

From the table across the fireplace, Harry seized one badge that said POTTER REALLY STINKS and chucked it, as hard as he could, across the room. It hit Ron on the forehead and bounced off. I flinched slightly.

"There you go," Harry said. "Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now, if you're lucky… That's what you want, isn't it?"

He strode across the room toward the stairs, and I half expected Ron to stop him. But he just stood there, looking down at his feet as Harry stormed up to their dormitory.

We both stood there uncomfortably, not saying anything.

"You do understand I just arrived, don't you?" I said, breaking the silence.

Ron sighed, "I know."

He walked towards the same couch Harry was probably seated and took a seat himself, staring dumbly to the small fire.

I fidgeted my feet and deciding, I went to join him on the couch.

We didn't talk. But thinking about it, Ron and I barely talk to each other. Even before he and Harry started fighting. We only agreed on some things like when we are hungry or when Hermione wants – wanted to drag _us_ to the library to spend time there. Otherwise than that, we hadn't had a proper conversation to each other.

_Maybe it was time to start changing things._

"What's your excuse?" I said softly.

He hummed puzzled. I rolled my eyes.

"I mean, why did you act… like an arsehole?"

I could see from my corner of my eyes that Ron had shut tightly his jaw. Okay, bad beginning. Let's try something different…

"He's scared, you know," I sighed. "About the first task."

"Dragons," Ron muttered. My eyes widened.

"What?!"

"Charlie told me. He came here with his friends from Rumania," Ron explained. No wonder Harry was paranoid…

"Either way, for the first time, he's scared," I continued. "Because he doesn't have his best mate by his side."

Ron stared at the fire looking down, his knuckles were white as he roughly grabbed his pajama pants.

"Remember second year? When everyone thought he was the Slytherin Heir? You were on his side then, that's why he didn't care. But now…"

I closed my eyes sighing, "He misses you."

The flames on the fireplace creaked softly at the sound of some passing owl outside the tower. What time was it? Midnight… or past midnight…?

"You know what they call you?" I whispered. Ron's face contorted in anger, possibly thinking I was going to said what Harry calls him on his back.

But no.

"They call you the 'Golden Trio'," I willed my voice to not be bitter. It still hurt to know that I wasn't part of that calling.

"Golden Trio?" Ron wondered. "But – then – where do you –"

"Exactly," I nodded. "I'm not part of that. They call _you_ three the Golden Trio."

I could feel Ron's gaze on me but I continued staring at the smaller flames dancing on the wood.

"Do you think you're the only one that feels left out?" I whispered more impatiently. This – it was the first time I was going to admit it. I had not told Hermione this – not even Neville. "That you're only a tag along when you're with famous Harry Potter? That the only family you possibly have left cares more for your friend than your own kin?" my eyes burned a little. The flames were dancing more violently but did not increase. "Or that your best friends are better than you? The knowledge that you will be always second choice?" I whispered that last question.

This – this I said, I could feel it on my blood. The words – they had been repeating themselves a long time, on my dreams. Maybe they seem to not mean anything, being short and all. But – they were so _true_.

"We have a lot in common than you thought, Ron."

My eyes had stopped burning, and my hands matched his, as during my small speak, I had make them into fists.

"I really am an arsehole, wasn't I?" Ron said aloud, sighing.

I chuckled.

The flames had disappeared.

So had his anger.

* * *

Next day, I woke up and with Hermione, we both went to the Great Hall.

"You know, I have this feeling," I smiled, "that something good is going to happen after the task."

"What do you mean?" Hermione narrowed her eyes.

I opened my mouth but in that moment, Harry appeared, looking quite nervous and anxious. He sat down with us, but didn't eat anything. As soon as Hermione had finished her porridge, Harry and dragged us out into the grounds.

And he started talking. Ron was right: the first task is dragons. Except that Harry gave a very exact description of the dragons and their names.

Knowing Harry's luck, he will end with the Hungarian Horntail.

He too, explained his conversation with Uncle Sirius and his concerns about Karkaroff, who had a past as a Death Eater.

Alarmed as she was by Sirius's warnings about Karkaroff, Hermione still thought that the dragons were the more pressing problem.

"Let's just try and keep you alive until Tuesday evening," she said desperately, "and then we can worry about Karkaroff."

We walked three times around the lake, trying all the way to think of a simple spell that would subdue a dragon.

Nothing whatsoever occurred to us, so we retired to the library instead. Here, we pulled down every book we could find on dragons, and we set to work searching through the large pile.

"Talon-clipping by charms… treating scale-rot… This is no good, this is for nutters like Hagrid who want to keep them healthy…"

"Dragons are extremely difficult to slay, owing to the ancient magic that imbues their thick hides, which none but the most powerful spells can penetrate… ' But Sirius said a simple one would do it…"

"Let's try some simple spellbooks, then," said Harry, throwing aside _Men Who Love Dragons Too Much. _Perfect book for Hagrid.

Harry later returned to the table with a pile of spellbooks, set them down, and began to flick through each in turn, Hermione whispering nonstop, and the only sound I made was the flicking of pages.

"Well, there are Switching Spells... but what's the point of Switching it? Unless you swapped its fangs for wine-gums or something that would make it less dangerous... The trouble is, like that book said, not much is going to get through a dragon's hide...I'd say Transfigure it, but something that big, you really haven't got a hope, I doubt even Professor McGonagall... unless you're supposed to put the spell on yourself? Maybe to give yourself extra powers? But they're not simple spells, I mean, we haven't done any of those in class, I only know about them because I've been doing O.W.L. practice papers-"

"Hermione," Harry said through gritted teeth, "will you please shut up for a bit? I'm trying to concentrate."

"Is not wise to snap at your help," I said casually, founding a spell called _Avis_ on the book I was actually reading.

"Oh no, he's back _again_, why can't he read on his stupid ship?" Hermione said irritably as Viktor Krum slouched in, cast a surly look over at the three of us, and settled himself in a distant corner with a pile of books. "Come on, we'll go back to the common room...his fan club'll be here in a moment, twittering away..."

And sure enough, as we left the library, a gang of girls tiptoed past us, one of them wearing a Bulgaria scarf tied around her waist.

I shook my head in exasperation. I bet if he was here, Ron would have done the same.

* * *

It was Monday morning, time to eat breakfast at the Great Hall, that I noticed my green eyed friend had trouble eating. In fact, he didn't eat at all. He just stared and stared at the Hufflepuff table, which I knew without doubt, that he was looking at Cedric.

A few minutes later, we finished eating our bacon and the four of us (Neville was here too) stood up.

"I'll see you in the greenhouses," Harry said the same time as Cedric walked out of the Great Hall with his friends. "Go on, I'll catch up with you in a few minutes."

"Harry, you're going to be late, the bells going to ring any minute-"

"I'll catch up, okay?"

"What's he up to?" Hermione asked as we walked through the entrance hall and out into the grounds. The cold air hit me like if knives were piercing on my skin.

"I have the hunch he's going to tell Cedric about the Dragons," I said.

"Dragons?!" Neville whispered/exclaimed looking quite shocked.

"Yes, you see –"

"Never mind that!" Hermione snapped, waving her hand frantically. "Why would he do that?"

"Because Fleur and Krum probably already know, and Harry wants the game to be equal," I explained my well thought theory.

"Equal?" Hermione hissed. "Cedric would have only one day to train! That's hardly equal!"

"Hermione, Cedric is very smart, he can come with a plan in a few hours," I said trying to appease her.

She still didn't look so convinced but Hermione finally nodded.

"Now that this was cleared," Neville cleared his throat. "Would someone of you two explain what are you both talking about?"

I explained to Neville the situation as we reached the greenhouses. Professor Sprout showed us how to prune a Flutterby Bush, situation that only Neville and Hannah Abbot managed to do with success.

"Where's Harry? He should be here by now!" Hermione hissed as she leaned across from me. I looked over her shoulder and saw through the windows a fleeting black spot.

"He's here," I said to her.

Harry quickly sped into the greenhouse, murmured what it looked like an apology to Professor Sprout, and rushed toward us.

"Hermione, Anne, I need you both to help me," he gasped.

"What do you think we've been doing, Harry?" Hermione said anxiously as she pruned her quivering Flutterby Bush.

"What do you need, Harry?" I asked him calmly.

"I need to learn how to do a Summoning Charm properly by tomorrow afternoon."

I turned around wide eyed.


	24. First Task

And so we practiced.

And practiced.

And practiced, all the time while Harry explained why he needed to know the Accio spell. Apparently, Moody found out about Hagrid showing him the dragons and suggested to use his strengths, in which Harry remembered his skill at flying. So, in short, Harry was going to summon his _Firebolt_ and fly for the egg. Simple plan.

If only life was simple, though.

We didn't have lunch, but headed for a free classroom, where Harry tried with all his might to make various objects fly across the room toward him. He was still having problems. The books and quills kept losing heart halfway across the room and dropping like stones to the floor.

"Concentrate, Harry, _concentrate_..." Hermione was saying once more.

"What d'you think I'm trying to do?" Harry said angrily. "A great big dragon keeps popping up in my head for some reason..."

I glared at him and pointed to one of Hermione's books, "Try again."

Harry wanted to skip Divination, but a snarl from Hermione made us quickly grab our bags and set off.

Professor Trelawney spent half the lesson telling everyone that the position of Mars with relation to Saturn at that moment meant that people born in July were in great danger of sudden, violent deaths.

"Well, that's good," Harry said loudly, his temper getting the better of him, "just as long as it's not drawn-out. I don't want to suffer."

I slapped my forehead as a few chuckles came from my mouth. This boy was hopeless!

Between my fingers, I saw Ron looking like he wanted to laugh so badly, but instead turned to stare at Harry and his laughing face turned solemn. Turning a little sideways, I saw Harry looking in front of him with a scowl on his face.

The rest of the class, I started muttering tips to Harry for summoning, and he started silently whispering the spell. He thought he caught a fly on his hand, but then I pointed that the fly just flew into his outstretched hand.

Dragging and giving him my best glare (according to Ron, they got more intense as years passed), I forced Harry to eat some dinner. I mean, ever since this Tournament started, he hadn't eaten a decent meal!

We returned to the empty classroom with Hermione, using the Invisibility Cloak to avoid teachers. We kept practicing until past midnight. We would have stayed longer, but Peeves turned up and, pretending to think that Harry wanted things thrown at him, started chucking chairs across the room. Harry, Hermione, and I left in a hurry before the noise attracted Filch, and went back to the Gryffindor common room, which was now mercifully empty.

Harry still didn't master the spell, and I was getting frustrated.

Hermione had put books around he common room for him to summon, but it was in vain. He was getting more and more disheartened as time progressed.

"That's it!" I yelled, gaining a glare from Hermione and a confused look from Harry. I stood up from my place in the couch and with a new and yet possible idea, I walked towards Harry.

Believing the worse (what is it that now everyone thinks I'm a menace?), Harry stepped backwards until his back hit the red wall. I quickly and gently removed the glasses from his face, and jumped backwards and reached the couch.

"Hey!"

"Annie!" Hermione hissed. "What are you –"

I lifted my hand to silence her. I put the glasses on my right hand and faced Harry, whom was blinking as he stared at my form.

"Okay, listen. You want them," I breathed slowly, "you need them."

"Annie, give them back!" Harry snapped, looking blindly to me. I felt a tad of compassion for him and hatred towards my actions, but it was the only way. I hoped.

"If you want them back, just say the magical words," I could see Hermione frowning as to why did I do this, but actually listening to me, she kept silent.

"Accio glasses," Harry said pointing his wand at me. The glasses didn't even quaver.

"Come on, I know you can do more than that," I teased.

"Accio glasses," he said more forcedly. It barely moved.

"Really Harry," I scoffed. "Is that all you can do? You want them, don't you?"

"Accio glasses," he was beginning to get mad. I didn't need his anger; what I needed was his determination.

"Do you want to survive? Will you prove all those students out there that Harry Potter can defeat a bloody dragon with Accio?" I said more harshly. "Because I assure you, the dragon is not going to be merciless."

"_Accio_ glasses!" and the glasses hovered from my hand and flew into his outstretched one

"Harry, you did it!" Hermione said happily.

I walked over Harry and grabbed his hand. His glasses were broken and his hand was bleeding. Shaking my head a little, I searched for a tissue and moving over the glasses, I started cleaning his wound. Hermione came over and seeing the glasses, she muttered "_Oculus Reparo_," and there were looking as new as I had never seen.

"Sorry," I said to Harry. He shrugged, quite not looking at my eyes. His hand still bleed, so I pulled out my wand and tried to remember a healing spell. "_Episkey_."

His cut slowly closed.

* * *

Later, Harry had summoned a lot of things like books, quills, gobstones, and – to my frustration – Neville's toad, Trevor. Poor animal is never going to be the same.

"It's loads better, Harry, great work," Hermione said, looking exhausted but still very pleased.

I was kind of passed out on the couch, some books under my head working as pillows.

"Well now we know what to do next time I can't do a spell," Harry said, throwing the rune dictionary back to me so he could try again. "Threaten me with a dragon. Right..." he raised his wand again. "_Accio Dictionary!"_

I felt my head go backwards in an awkward angle as the dictionary flew to Harry's hand. Despite the fact he had made me hit my head, I was glad he already got the hang of it.

"Harry, I really think you've got it!" Hermione said delightedly.

"Tell that to my sore head," I muttered as I rubbed my head.

"Just as long as it works tomorrow," Harry said. "The Firebolt's going to be much farther away than the stuff in here, it's going to be in the castle, and I'm going to be out there on the grounds…"

"It won't matter," Hermione said, "Just as long as you concentrate really, really hard on it, it'll come."

"We'd better get some sleep..." I yawned. "You'll need it."

* * *

Next morning, I wasn't sure if feel excited about this or dead worried for Harry's safety.

Lessons were to stop at midday, giving all the students time to get down to the dragons' enclosure - though of course, they didn't yet know what they would find there.

Harry looked extremely nervous and others weren't really helping, whether they were wishing him good luck or hissing _"We'll have a box of tissues ready, Potter"_ as he passed.

It seemed as the day had passed quickly, as we already were on the Great Hall.

James had wished good luck to Harry before he set off to his classmates. He secretly told Neville and I that he was forbidden to cheer on any other champion than Krum. "Not that I would listen to Karkaroff," James had said, "but better be cautious."

Harry seemed to be in a deep daze, walking slowly, and when he sat down at the Gryffindor table, he looked really confused. And then Professor McGonagall was hurrying over to us in the Great Hall, with loads of people watching.

"Potter, the champions have to come down to the grounds now... You have to get ready for the first-task."

"Okay," Harry said, standing up, dropping his fork onto his plate with a clatter.

"Good luck Harry," Hermione said, "You'll be fine."

"Yeah," he said shakily.

"Don't worry Harry," Neville smiled, giving him thumbs up, "everything's going to be fine."

I looked over at him and rolling my eyes, I said, "You're Harry Potter. Luck's always been on your side."

It sounded terrible, but either way, Harry still smiled.

* * *

After breakfast was over, Hermione, Neville and I joined the crowd of people that were flocking outside to see the first task.

"Bets! Place your bets!" Fred yelled as he passed us behind our seat.

"Bets taken! Bets taken here!" George continued. Both of the twins were carrying boxes with the champion's names inside.

"Step up, folks! Who fancies a flutter in today's bloodbath?"

"Fred!" Hermione and Ginny moaned.

"Smart money's on Krum to survive! Any bets?"

"Is it wise to bet on the contrary school?" Neville yelled over the cheering as we saw George writing Fleur's name on a Ravenclaw boy's side.

"Don't know!" I replied yelling.

The cheering grew larger as we heard the roar of the dragons on the back of the champion's tent.

"Can I sit here?" a voice asked behind us. Without turning around, I knew it was Ron.

"Sure!" I yelled as the sound became deafening. Unsurely, he sat down between Neville and I. Ginny glared at her brother suspiciously, but she cheered as we heard a bloody canon go off. Ludo Bagman came to the small stadium for the judges.

"Welcome! Welcome all to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament!" Bagman announced to the crowd. A cheer went up. "The goal of this task is to make past the dragon that each champion has chosen, and collect the golden egg that will present the champions with a clue to the second task. First up, representing Hogwarts, we have, Mr. Cedric Diggory!"

I watched as a nervous Cedric stepped out of the tent. The rest of the school was going wild, clapping and cheering, until Bagman had everyone settle down so that Cedric could begin.

He took out his wand and transfigured a rock into a dog. It worked to distract the dragon for a while, but right as Cedric was going for the egg, the dragon changed its mind and decided to forget the dog.

"WOW!" I exclaimed as everyone else gasped when Cedric was burned from the dragon, but he emerged with the egg in hand.

"Very good indeed!" Bagman roared. "And now the marks from the judges!"

The judges all gave their marks, most of them not bad.

"One down, three to go! Miss Delacour, if you please!" Bagman yelled.

Fleur came out of the tent next, looking almost as sick as Cedric did. She, too, pulled out her wand and said "_Somnus_!" while pointing it at the Welsh Green. Instantly, the dragon began to drip of asleep. It snored roughly, making flames shot out of his snout and burning Fleur's skirt.

The crowd applauded as Fleur also emerged with her golden egg.

"And here come Mr. Krum!" Bagman cried out. The crowd clapped very loudly as their favorite Quidditch player came out looking as if he was facing Lord Voldemort himself. Or maybe he already had that expression…

He used the Conjunctivitis Curse on his dragon; swelling up its eyes and making it go blind for the moment. The dragon ended up crushing most of the eggs it was protecting which lost Krum some points.

"Very daring!" Bagman yelled. "That's some nerve he's showing—and—yes, he's got the egg!"

Krum had rolled to the side out of the way of the dragon, which put him right by the nest of eggs. He then climbed on up and grabbed hold of the golden egg.

The dragon keepers came back with the Hungarian Horntail. The Horntail was bigger than the other dragon, with her massive, black, scaly wings folded around her, thrashing it's spiked tail.

"It had to be Harry's bloody luck," I sighed exasperated.

"Now, last, but not least, Mr. Harry Potter!" Bagman roared. I screamed along with Hermione, Neville and the Weasleys.

Harry walked slowly out of the tent, looking pale, panicked and nervous. I clenched my hands into hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms. The plan must work.

The crowd were cheering at Harry, but it looked like he wasn't even paying attention. Harry looked like he was concentrating hard, and then he raised his wand.

_"Accio Firebolt!" _he shouted.

I waited, every part of me hoping to see the Firebolt shooting over the trees, but it was taking longer and longer...

My heart soared when I heard the familiar change of air and his Firebolt stopped beside him. Harry climbed onto his broomstick, and kicked off hard from the ground.

As soon as Harry was flying in the air, I saw that he no longer looked scared. He looked just like he did during a Quidditch match. Focused, determined, but relaxed.

Suddenly, Harry dived. The Horntail's head followed him. Harry pulled out of the dive just in time; a jet of fire shot out from the Horntail's mouth, right where Harry was before he pulled from the dive.

"Great Scott, he can fly!" I heard Bagman yell as the crowd shrieked and yelled. "Are you watching this Mr. Krum?"

Harry flew higher up into the air while the Horntail followed his progress. Just as the Horntail opened his mouth, Harry plummeted, but the Horntail's tail came whipping up to meet him instead. Harry swerved to the left to avoid it, but it was too late- one of the long, spikes hit him in the shoulder, ripping his robes and ripping through his skin. I gasped.

He zoomed back around to the back of the Horntail, and then he stared flying everywhere. He was going this way and then that way, but he wasn't close enough for her fire to hit him, but still close enough that the dragon still thought he was a threat.

He flew up higher; the Horntail's head rose up with him. He rose up a few feet more and she let out a roar of exasperation. He must of been like a fly to her, an annoying fly that she wanted to swat, but it just wouldn't stay still. She thrashed her tail again, but he was too high up...she shot fire into the air, which Harry dodged...her jaws opened wide...

Then suddenly, she reared, spreading her giant black wings- and then Harry dived. Before the dragon knew what was happening, or where Harry had gone, he was speeding to the ground too fast for her to follow. He sped towards the egg, now unprotected by her clawed front legs. I saw Harry take a hand off his Firebolt and grab the golden egg.

With a huge spurt of speed, he was off, soaring out over the stands, the egg safely under his arm. The crowd were screaming and applauding loudly and Bagman was yelling, "Look at that! Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is the quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr. Potter!"

I sighed in relief, my head lolling on Ron's shoulder.

"This is too much for me," I said.

"Hear hear," Neville said happily as we stood up.

"Come on!" Hermione smiled. "Let's go and see Harry!"

We nodded and started walking, but I noticed Ron hadn't moved from his seat. He was looking quite awkward at the judges' place.

"That means you too, Ron," I said. He looked up surprised, his face somewhat contorted in an anxious emotion.

It was time for them to stop being stupid.

It was hard to pass through the crowd, but in one minute we finally managed to reach the champion's tent.

"Glad to see you're still in one piece," I said as we neared our dark haired friend. Harry rolled his eyes but still smiled tiredly.

"Harry, that was bloody amazing!" Neville said.

"You were brilliant! You really were!" Hermione said squeakily.

Harry didn't react, he was looking at Ron, who was very white and staring at Harry as though he were a ghost.

"Harry," he said, very seriously, "whoever put your name in that goblet - I – I reckon they're trying to do you in!"

"Caught on, have you?" said Harry coldly. "Took you long enough."

Hermione stood nervously between them, looking from one to the other.

Neville and I hung back behind her. Neville looking like he was expecting them them to start hexing at each other.

"It's okay," Harry said, before Ron could get the words out. "Forget it."

"No," said Ron, "I shouldn't've -"

"Forget it, "Harry said.

Ron grinned nervously at him, and Harry grinned back. I smiled at the scene.

"Told ya," I mouthed to Ron. He happily nodded. In the common room, I had said to him that everything was going to be fine the moment he apologized. Ron didn't believe me, but here we are.

Hermione suddenly burst into tears.

"There's nothing to cry about!" Harry told her, bewildered.

"You two are so stupid!" she shouted, stamping her foot on the ground, tears splashing down her front.

"What did you expect, they are boys."

"Hey!" Neville exclaimed.

Before either of the boys could stop her, Hermione gave them both a hug and dashed away, now positively howling.

"Barking mad," said Ron, shaking his head.


	25. December begans

**Sort of a filler chapter, but I have something to say.**

**Dear sara253xxx,**

**To say I wasn't surprised to see a large comment would be a lie. At first, I was getting used to not receiving more than five reviews on my stories, but as I wrote third year, I received more positive views on Anya. Sorry if my grammatical errors bothered you in some way, you see, English is not my first language and when I started posting this series, it was when I was completely sure my writing wouldn't be dreadful. Like you, I don't have much to do on my house (Besides homework T.T), and I have a lot of free classes on school, so I take advantage of this and write to not get myself bored to death. As for your assumptions... You were right, I laughed. Because you have hit right on the nail. I am not going to tell you what of them, you'll have to continue reading if you want to discover it. **

**Don't worry about the lenght of your review. Actually, you had made my day. Thank You so much!**

**And somehow, I have the feeling this sounded rather british, again.**

**I saddly don't own Harry Potter. J. K. Rowling does. _(Looks to the other side bitterly and says "Lucky her")_**

* * *

Same day on the evening, we went to the Owlery to send uncle Sirius a letter about how the first task went. On our way, Harry filled Ron about uncle Sirius's warnings about Karkaroff.

"Fits, doesn't it?" Ron said, agreeing as we finally arrived. "Remember what Malfoy said on the train, about his dad being friends with Karkaroff? Now we know where they knew each other. They were probably running around in masks together at the World Cup… I'll tell you one thing, though, Harry, if it was Karkaroff who put your name in the goblet, he's going to be feeling really stupid now, isn't he? Didn't work, did it? You only got a scratch! Come here - I'll do it -"

Pigwidgeon was very excited at the idea of a delivery, seeing as he flew in circles around and around Harry's head, hooting incessantly. Ron snatched Pigwidgeon out of the air and held him still while Harry attached the letter to his leg.

"There's no way any of the other tasks are going to be that dangerous, how could they be?" Ron went on as he carried Pigwidgeon to the window. "You know what? I reckon you could win this tournament, Harry, I'm serious."

I raised an eyebrow at him. I knew he was trying to make up his behavior by being positive, but seriously, Ron was overreacting right now.

Clearly thinking the same, Hermione crossed both her arms and looked narrowly at him.

"Harry's got a long way to go before he finishes this tournament," she said seriously. "If that was the first task, I hate to think what's coming next."

"Right little ray of sunshine, aren't you?" said Ron. "You and Professor Trelawney should get together sometime."

He threw Pigwidgeon out of the window. Pigwidgeon plummeted twelve feet before managing to pull himself back up again. Instead of the usual short letters and notes, Harry had wrote a full description of what exactly happened.

"Sadly to say Ron, Hermione's right," I dryly said as we watched Pigwidgeon disappear on the distance. "If that was supposed to be the easiest task, I highly doubt the left ones are going to be a fun ride."

Ron shrugged. "Well, we'd better get downstairs for your surprise party, Harry - Fred and George should have nicked enough food from the kitchens by now."

Sure enough, when we arrived, the common room was full of banners of Harry flying around the Hungarian Horntail's head and of Cedric's head on fire.

I shook my head scowling. These Gryffindors still don't learn!

There were mountains of cakes and flagons of pumpkin juice and butterbeer on every surface; Lee Jordan had let off some Filibuster's Fireworks, so that the air was thick with stars and sparks. Harry looked really happy: maybe it was because he survived or because he had his best mate back, but either way, his sparkling green eyes made my heart melt. It wasn't common to see him like this anymore.

"Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg, which Harry had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. "Open it, Harry, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!"

"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione said swiftly. "It's in the tournament rules…"

"I was supposed to work out how to get past the dragon on my own too," Harry muttered so Hermione and I could only hear him.

"Dunno what you are talking about Harry," I said, taking a sip of butterbeer. I gave a sigh of relief. Butterbeer always relaxes me.

"Yeah, go on Harry! Open it!" several people called.

Lee passed the golden egg to Harry, who dug his fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and prised it open.

It was hollow and completely empty- but as soon as Harry opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing filled the room. The nearest sound I could compare to it was a theme song from a horror movie Tonks made Nat and me to see. We hadn't sleep that night, mind you.

"Shut it!" Fred bellowed as he put his hand over his ears.

"What was that?" said Seamus, staring at the egg as Harry slammed it shut again. "Sounded like a banshee… Maybe you've got to get past one of those next, Harry!"

I looked in bewilderment at the egg. Banshees?!

"It was someone being tortured!" said Neville, who had gone very white and spilled sausage rolls all over the floor. "You're going to have to fight the Cruciatus Curse!"

I paled. _The Cruciatus Curse?!_

"Don't be a prat, Neville, that's illegal," said George. "They wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on the champions. I thought it sounded a bit like Percy singing… maybe you've got to attack him while he's in the shower, Harry."

"They are not stupid enough to that," I said to Neville, clasping a hand to his shoulder_. I hope so._

"Want a jam tart, Hermione?" Fred said suddenly.

Hermione looked doubtfully at the plate he was offering her. Fred grinned.

"It's all right," he said. "I haven't done anything to them. It's the custard creams you've got to watch -"

Just then, Neville started chocking and spat it out. I patted quickly his back. Fred laughed.

"Just my little joke, Neville..."

Hermione took a jam tart. Then she said, "Did you get all this from the kitchens, Fred?"

"Yep," Fred said, grinning at her. He put on a high-pitched squeak and imitated a house-elf. " 'Anything we can get you, sir, anything at all!' They're dead helpful...get me a roast ox if I said I was peckish."

"How do you get in there?" Hermione asked. I looked up sharply. Oh, no – I know what she wants to get at.

"Easy," Fred said, "concealed door behind a painting of a bowl of fruit. Just tickle the pear, and it giggles and -" He stopped. "Why?"

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly.

"Going to try and lead the house-elves out on strike now, are you?" George said. "Going to up all the leaflet stuff and try and stir them up into rebellion?"

Several laughed, but Hermione didn't answer.

"Oh dear," I whispered. "They just gave her an idea!"

"Don't you go upsetting them and telling them they've got to take clothes and salaries!" Fred said warningly. "You'll put them off their cooking!"

I yelled when suddenly Neville transformed into a big yellow canary.

"Oh - sorry Neville!" Fred shouted over all the laughter. "I forgot - it _was_ the custard creams we hexed -"

Within a minute, however, Neville had molted, and once his feathers had fallen off, he reappeared looking entirely normal. He even joined in laughing.

"Canary Creams!" Fred shouted to the excitable crowd. "George and I invented them - seven Sickles each, a bargain!"

* * *

The start of December brought wind and sleet to Hogwarts. Drafty though the castle always was in winter. Poor James had to suffer the cold surroundings of the Durmstrang ship, which was pitching in the high winds. Possibly the Beauxbatons caravan was in the same position. I noticed Hagrid taking extra care of Madame Maxime's horses, giving them firewhiskey; the fumes wafting from the trough in the corner of their paddock was enough to make the entire Care of Magical Creatures class light-headed.

James and Ron had become very good mates when it involved Quidditch. In fact, I didn't know James was such a fanatic like Ron. Appearances really can be mistaken of.

But then Ron started asking about Viktor Krum.

"He's not that marvelous," James said scowling at the cup of pumpkin juice. "Really, the glamour will fell off." He smirked at Ron's confused stare. "Eventually."

You could say Divination class was somewhat funny and scary. We were still doing the star charts, so because Neville was on the Hospital Wing, I had been put to work with Harry and Ron. The both of them had kept laughing at Trelawney while she explained the various ways in which Pluto could disrupt everyday life. And sadly, I remember that Pluto was on my chart.

Like an old tradition, Trelawney predicted Harry's death at the end of the class.

"It'd be a bit more impressive if she hadn't done it about eighty times before," Harry said as we finally regained the fresh air of the staircase beneath Professor Trelawney's room. "But if I'd dropped dead every time she's told me I'm going to, I'd be a medical miracle."

"If that was so, I think Hermione and I would be the walking miracles," I snorted at him.

"You'd be a sort of extra-concentrated ghost," Ron added, chortling, as we passed the Bloody Baron going in the opposite direction, his wide eyes staring sinisterly. "Speaking of Hermione, I hope she got loads of homework from Professor Vector, I love not working when she is..."

Hermione, with James' help (I still glare at him for this), had managed to get to the kitchens and tried to convince the elves to be "free". Ron called it the House-Elf Liberation Front. We got to see Dobby again. . In our second year, Dobby had tried to not let Harry come to Hogwarts because he thought he was in danger. But almost killed him and Ron, actually. After the Chamber fiasco, I witnessed when Harry set Dobby free from the Malfoys by giving him his socks.

And I continued like that. I spend my time between the Golden trio and with Neville and James all the days. Since I had let out that dark feeling, I didn't felt alone like before. You could say everything was perfect.

But then it happened.


	26. Shame on you!

It was a cold December evening when the fourth year students of Hogwarts were heading to their next class: Transfiguration. It was strange, actually. We didn't have class today with McGonagall. But, a short-time notice on the board in the Gryffindor common room had called all the students above the fourth years, in specific hours, to head to the Head of our house's classroom.

Many were slightly apprehensive, thinking we had gone into trouble and now all the house was going to be punished. But later though, we learned that not only Gryffindor was going to have a meeting with our Head of house, the other houses were too.

To my suspicion, the classroom had been cleared and the desks were backed against the walls (same way Moody did before) and there was an old big Gramophone in the farthest wall to the door. The boys put themselves on the left side of the room while the girls grabbed chairs and sat opposite them. I had only grabbed one for Hermione, but I preferred to stand up.

"What do you think this is about?" I whispered to Hermione. She shook her head.

"I'm not sure."

Whispers filled from both sides as we curiously waited for Professor McGonagall to arrive. What was all the mystery for?

A loud click made us glance up and we saw our HeadHouse arriving with somewhat a sour look on her face. Following behind her was – wait, JAMES?!

The chatting had died at the moment we saw her – except for Harry and Ron, both playing with some fake wands (provided by the Weasley twins).

Professor McGonagall briskly walked to the middle of the classroom, James rushing past her to the Gramophone, looking like he wanted to laugh so badly.

Everyone around was gazing at him with curious glances as he played with the device. What was a Durmstrang doing here?

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, catching our attention.

Well, except two.

"Potter! Weasley! _Will you pay attention?"_

Professor McGonagall's irritated voice cracked like a whip through the Transfiguration room, making said boys jump. Ron was holding a tin parrot and Harry, a rubber haddock.

"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age," Professor McGonagall said, with an angry look at the pair of them as the head of Harry's haddock drooped and fell silently to the floor - Ron's parrot's beak had severed it moments before - "I have something to say to you all.

"The Yule Ball is approaching - a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. As representatives of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward. And I mean this literally, because… the Yule Ball is first and foremost… a dance."

That got everyone whispering at once. The girls looking at each other excitedly, the boys groaning and slumping on their wall. I looked over at James and saw him smirking at the scene.

"Silence!" Professor McGonagall yelled. At once, everyone shut up. "Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above - although you may invite a younger student if you wish -"

Lavender let out a shrill giggle, making Parvati nudge her hard on the ribs, furiously working on her face to not giggle. Professor McGonagall ignored the pair. That was unfair actually. She didn't call them off like Harry and Ron.

"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then -" she stared around at us, "to dance… is to let the body breath. Inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers longing to burst forth and take flight, a chance for us all to - er - let our hair down," Professor McGonagall smiled, looking over at our side of the room. Lavender giggled harder at this. It was hard to imagine Professor McGonagall with all her hair down.

"Inside every boy," she continued, "a lordly lion prepared to prance."

Professor McGonagall then suddenly stopped in front of the boys, whom were whispering together with Seamus.

"Mr. Weasley."

"Yes?" Ron gulped.

"Will you join me, please?" she asked, pulling him to his feet by the shoulder of his sweater while Harry and Seamus smiled at him and pushed him forward.

Professor McGonagall looked over at us, frowning some.

"Miss Barton," I snapped my head sharply at her. "If you join us, please."

I quickly looked over at James and found him with his fist on his mouth, looking like he was chocking himself for not laughing. Glaring at him, I reluctantly walked to McGonagall and Ron on the middle of the classroom, very aware of the stares following my back.

"Face each other," Professor McGonagall motioned to the two of us. Confused and slightly terrified, we did so.

"Now, Mr. Leopold –" I choked a laugh. His complete name was_ Leopold_?! "– has told me you had already done this before, Miss Barton."

I groaned. The Gramophone, the cleared desks, and I still hadn't the foggiest idea of what this was about? I am very ashamed of myself.

"_Yes_, Professor," I hissed the yes quite madly. I looked over at James and saw his eyes dancing with mirth over at the two of us.

_Note to myself: never_ ever_ tell any embarrasing stories of my youth to James. _

Ron was looking quite confused as to what McGonagall was talking about.

"Very well, then. Weasley, place your right hand on her waist."

"Where?" asked Ron, looking horrified. I closed my eyes, beginning to feel embarrassed about this.

"Her waist," Professor McGonagall repeated as the catcalls started. Blushing madly, I raised my left arm and put my hand on his right shoulder. McGonagall deliberately put Ron's hand on my waist. "And extend your arm."

Sighing, I extended my right arm and grabbed hold of his free hand. The one that wasn't touching my _waist_.

"Mr. Leopold, if you please," the Professor called. Giving us both thumbs up with a smirk, James put the needle on the disk and the music began.

"One two three, one two three, one two three," McGonagall counted as we awkwardly moved around in circles.

Ron wasn't a bad dancer, but the fact that we weren't looking at each other, made us stumble in our feet.

"I'm going to kill him," I growled as I saw James laughing full-heartily now.

"Can I join you?" Ron asked darkly, twirling me around.

"Not at all, Ron. The more, the _merrier_."

"Everybody come together!" Professor McGonagall instructed.

Immediately, all of the girls practically jumped out of their chairs and ran to the center of the room. However, the boys didn't move an inch and even slouched lower into their chairs.

"Boys, on your feet," McGonagall called again.

Taking a deep breath, only Neville did so, and the girls immediately bounced on him.

* * *

I never had accounted how much girls lived on Hogwarts. Every time I was on the library, I found – not just the Krum fan club - , but a lot of other bunches of girls, hidden on every bookshelf the place possessed.

When we were eating on the Great Hall, girls always looked over at Harry or James, with possessing eyes. They always glared at Hermione or me when they saw who were sitting with the boys.

Technically, in small words, all the Hogwarts girls were obsessed with getting dates, no matter what happens.

Girls giggling and whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with laughter as boys passed them, girls excitedly comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas night...Many of the boys were skirting about the halls, moving in pairs and trios, muttering to each other and pointing to the girls they were going to ask...

This was madness!

And apparently, the boys thought the same.

Harry, now being famous between the gossips, was being asked by a few girls. A curly-haired third-year Hufflepuff girl we had seen around, but never talked at all, asked him the very next day. Without even thinking, Harry had said no. looking hurt, she walked away and Harry had to endure Ron's, Seamus's and Dean's about her through all the History class. James's taunting was on the Great Hall only. The following day, two more girls asked him, a second year and, to my amusement, a fifth year who looked as though she might knock him out if he refused.

"She was quite good-looking," Ron said fairly, after Harry declined her invitation.

"She was a foot taller than me," Harry shuddered. "Imagine what I'd look like trying to dance with her."

When it came to dates, Hermione, Neville and I had decided to turn deaf. But it was quite difficult when you were with James. I mean, I know he's good-looking, handsome even, but I didn't know the entire Hogwarts and Beauxbatons population was infatuated with him! Girls asked him, and, with a charming smile, James told them that he wasn't available.

One of Fleur Delacour's friends had decided to become our daily stalker, and followed us around the castle. The library, the Great Hall, the corridors, the Black Lake…

I asked James why he denied all the invitations.

"I already know who I want to go with."

Clearly, Neville knew. And as much as I asked, he only gave me an apologizing smile and said, "You'll see."

To my shock, I was asked by a Durmstrang boy – Poliakoff, was it? – to go with him to the Yule Ball, but I politely declined. He looked so heartbroken that made me feel guilty through all our Charms class.

Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff asked me too, but I remembered how of a snob was he with Harry in our second year, and again, I politely declined. He, contrary at Poliakoff, turned his nose up at me, and walked off with a dignified stance.

And it continued like that. I was asked by two Ravenclaws, six Gryffindors from seventh and fifth year, and suspiciously, a polite Theodore Nott of Slytherin.

I always said no.

The last week of term became increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule Ball were flying everywhere, I didn't believe half of them - for instance, that Mr. Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. Though, the only rumor I think is true was that he booked the Weird Sisters. A rock wizarding band whose's songs I had heard all over the summer, courtesy of Tonks of course. The fact that the entire group was formed by men and was called the 'Weird _Sisters_' still intrigued me.

Some teachers, like Flitwick, had already given up on trying to catch their class's attention. But Professor McGonagall, Moody, Binns and Snape, had decided to put us more work. Like for instance, Snape had made the nastily decision of testing us on poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term.

I was returning from the library one afternoon, like usual actually.

"Because George wants to invite him to the ball," I heard one of the Weasley twins say sarcastically.

"Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat," said the other.

"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" said Ron.

"Nose out, Ron, or I'll burn that for you too," said Fred, waving his wand threateningly. "So… you lot got dates for the ball yet?"

"Nope," the boys said gloomily.

"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," said Fred.

"Who're you going with, then?" said Ron, annoyed.

"Angelina," said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment.

"Oh, have you already asked her, then?" I said, making myself known. Thoughtfully, Fred raised his hand to his chin.

"Good point," said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, "Oy! Angelina!"

Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him.

"What?" she called back.

"Want to come to the ball with me?"

Angelina gave Fred an appraising sort of look.

"All right, then," she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face.

"There you go," said Fred to Harry and Ron, "piece of cake."

He got to his feet, yawning, and said, "We'd better use a school owl then, George, come on…"

They left. Ron stopped feeling his eyebrows (which I just noticed they were burned) and looked across the smoldering wreck of his card castle at Harry.

"We _should_ get a move on, you know… ask someone. He's right. We don't want to end up with a pair of trolls."

I had taken a seat on the couch besides Hermione, and from there, I looked up at him in complete shock.

"Excuse me?"

"A – a pair of what?" Hermione spluttered.

"Well - you know," said Ron, shrugging. "I'd rather go alone than with – with Eloise Midgen, say."

"Her acne's loads better lately - and she's really nice!" I said quickly, frowning at his words.

"Her nose is off-center," said Ron as if this naturally explained all.

"Oh I see," Hermione said, bristling. "So basically, you're going to take the best-looking girl who'll have you, even if she's completely horrible?"

"Er - yeah, that sounds about right," Ron said.

"I'm going to bed," Hermione snapped, and she swept off towards the girls dormitory without another word.

I grabbed one of my books, the heavier one, and gave Ron a swift blow to the head.

"Blimey Anne!"

* * *

The Hogwarts staff, demonstrating a continued desire to impress the visitors from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, seemed determined to show the castle at its best this Christmas. When the decorations went up, I noticed they were more astounding than I had ever seen on my last three years.

Everlasting icicles had been attached to the banisters of the marble staircase, the usual twelve Christmas trees in the Great Hall were bedecked with everything from luminous holly berries to real, hooting, golden owls, and the suits of armor had all been bewitched to sing carols whenever anyone passed them. It was quite something to hear "O Come, All Ye Faithful", sung by an empty helmet that only knew half the words. Several times, Filch the caretaker had to extract Peeves from inside the armor, where he had taken to hiding, filling in the gaps in the songs with lyrics of his own invention, all of which were very rude.

And still, I didn't have a date for the Yule Ball. There were still loads of boys that asked me, but I all told them no. I was starting to get frustrated with all of this – mumbo jumbo.

Harry and Ron were getting very nervous now, though as Harry pointed out, Ron would look much less stupid than he would without a partner; Harry was supposed to be starting the dancing with the other champions.

"I suppose there's always Moaning Myrtle," he said gloomily, referring to the ghost who haunted the girls' toilets on the second floor.

"Harry - we've just got to grit our teeth and do it," said Ron on Friday morning, in a tone that suggested they were planning the storming of an impregnable fortress.

"When we get back to the common room tonight, we'll both have partners - agreed?"

"Er… okay," said Harry.

I looked between them, somewhat amused. These – these two boys, they have saved the Sorcerer's stone, helped to solve the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets, discovering Peter Pettigrew as Voldemort's servant, and Harry fought a dragon, and they STILL don't have got dates?

Shame on them.

* * *

In Snape's Potions class that afternoon, I saw that Neville was having a hard time concentrating on his test. Consequently, he forgot to add the key ingredient - a bezoar - and received bottom marks. Actually, this time was better than the last classes.

When the bell rang, Harry grabbed his bag, and hurried to the dungeon door.

"I'll meet you at dinner," he said to us and dashed off upstairs.

"Right, I'll see you two later," Ron said, and in the same way as Harry, he ran away.

"I'm going to the library," Hermione said, and in her own way, she left.

I was standing on the corridor looking quite ridiculous.

"What just happened?" I muttered.

Starting to go to the Great Hall, I muttered angrily to myself.

"First the Tournament, then Cedric Diggory badges, now the Yule Ball and the whole asking dates thing," I sad all of this in a rush.

"Hello Annie," Neville said, appearing on my side.

"This – this Yule Ball, is a complete racist method of punishment to all the girls and boys," I continued, not paying him attention.

"Um, Annie…?"

"No – this, is beyond my comprehension, I would not succumb to this – this Celtic cult where teenagers get to show off,"

"Annie."

"Where the Alpha always get to be known – ugh! I can't even think a properly excuse for this!"

"Annie, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

I snapped my head towards him so quickly I thought my neck had cracked.

"What?" I breathed.

Neville, looking quite shy suddenly, looked down, his hair hiding his eyes. But still, I could see the tips of his ears turning slowly red.

"I said – if – if you wanted to go with me… not that you have to! We could go as friends – or maybe we shouldn't go at all –"

"Yes."

I blinked. I didn't even have thought of the question at all. But what was the problem. Neville was my friend and like he had said, we could just go together as mates.

"Ye – yes?" Neville stammered.

I laughed. "Yes, Neville. I'll go with you."

"But – what about all your rant –"

"As you see, I got finally frustrated with all of this."

We bot laughed and walked off to the Great Hall.

However, when we arrived, we almost crashed into James.

"Sorry, sorry," he muttered, sobbing his shoulder. "Neville can you see her?"

"See who?" I asked.

"You still haven't asked her?" exclaimed Neville, looking quite surprised.

"Well, you could say I delayed a bit on the date," James said sarcastically, raising his neck to see this 'her' of his.

"Wait – I see her. She's sitting beside Colin Creevey."

James nodded quickly. "Thanks mate," and he rushed off towards the Gryffindor table.

I squinted more my eyes to see who was he going to ask, and I finally saw Colin say something and moving over, letting me spot bright red hair.

"He's going to ask Ginny?" I said. Neville looked over at me like if he hadn't met me before.

"I thought the awkward glances and the long talks between them made it obvious."

Actually, it did.

"Hello," Hermione said happily skidding over at us. That was weird. I had never seen her smile so widely before.

"What's into you?" I asked suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing!" she said cheerfully.

I raised an eyebrow at her, and crossed both arms over my chest.

"Fine!" she snapped. "I was just asked."

And ladies and gentleman, Hermione blushed!

"By whom?" queried Neville.

She said something, but I couldn't hear her. Hermione was mumbling to herself.

"Sorry, I didn't quite hear that?" I put a hand to my ear.

"Viktor Krum."

"Seriously?! That's amazing, Mione!" I said, hugging her.

"It is, isn't it?" she said breathlessly, giggling afterwards.

"Congratulations Hermione!" Neville said.

Then, both looking very red, Ginny and James walked towards us. James was smiling goofily, so I take it that she said yes.

"Are you both alright?" Hermione asked, looking now concerned.

Blushing madly, Ginny nodded.

"Hermione, you're not going to believe what I found," James said. "Is a similar case about the elves' rights you're planning to make true."

"Really?" Hermione then walked with James, both sitting down and talking about how this could help S.P.E.W.

Rolling our eyes (yes, Ginny too), we turned outside and walked off to the Gryffindor Tower.

"_Will you go to the ball with me?!" _someone screamed. We stopped dead on our tracks.

"Was that -?" Neville started.

"My idiot brother?" Ginny said. Looking at each other, we rounded the corner and saw Ron's back, frozen in fear. Everyone was watching him. And the person he just shouted at was Fleur Delacour. She was standing while looking repulsed. Cedric Diggory was on her side, quite flustered and awkward.

Ginny and I quickly rushed off to each side and, intertwining our arms through his, we dragged Ron backwards before he could embarrass himself more.

I wasn't easy to carry him around. We had to climb a lot of stairs while still dragging him around. It did not help that he was leaning on us just as we grabbed him.

Taking each a turn, Neville changed first with Ginny, then she changed for me and then I changed for Neville.

We did so until we arrived to the Tower.

"Fairy lights," I said to the Fat Lady - the password had been changed the previous day.

Looking like she wanted to laugh at the state of our friend, the Fat Lady did so.

We instantly rushed him off to a near armchair. His face was white as ash, looking very sick. Ron tried to say something, but seemed like he couldn't open his mouth properly.

"I think he just broke himself," I whispered to Ginny. She giggled.

"Oh no!" Neville suddenly groaned. "I forgot my book on Snape's dungeon!"

"You better go for it," I suggested. "He may be capable of not returning it to you."

Nodding, Neville rushed off, almost knocking Harry down. I frowned at him. Harry looked sad and disappointed.

"What's up, Ron?" Harry said as he joined us.

Ron just stared up horrified at Harry.

"Why did I do it?" he asked wildly, gabbing Harry's front robes. "I don't know what made me do it!"

"Wh – what?"

"He- er- just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him," Ginny explained. She looked like she was fighting back a smile. To be honest, I was too.

"You _what_?"

"I don't know what made me do it!" Ron gasped again. "What was I playing at? There were people- all around- I've gone mad- everyone watching! She was just standing there, talking to Diggory! Something just came over me, and I asked her!"

"Actually, he sort of screamed at her. It was a bit frightening," I told him, smiling sheepishly.

Ron moaned and dropped his head into his hands. He kept talking, but his words were more mumbled.

"She looked at me as if I was some kind of sea slug! Didn't even answer- and then, I dunno- just sort of came to my senses and ran for it!"

"She's part veela," Harry said and we all stared at him. "You were right- her grandmothers one. It wasn't your fault. I bet you just saw her when she putting on the old charm for Diggory. She was wasting her time, though. He's going with Cho."

Ron looked up from his hands.

"I asked her to go with me just now," Harry said dully, "and she told me."

I felt my smile slip off my face.

So... he asked Cho Chang first...?

"This is mad," Ron said. "We're the only ones left who haven't got anyone - well, except Neville."

I glared at them and rolled my eyes. "It might interest you to know that Neville's already got someone." I wasn't going to tell them _I _am that someone.

"What?" said Harry, startled by this news.

"Now I'm really depressed," Ron moaned. "…I mean, who would go with him?" He snorted.

I could feel my eyes burning now, but this time I could really tell they were angry tears.

"Don't!" said Ginny, annoyed. "Don't laugh -"

Just then Hermione climbed in through the portrait hole.

"Why weren't any of you at dinner?" she said, coming over to join us.

"Because-" Ginny started, "-oh shut up laughing, you two—because they've both just been turned down by girls they asked to the ball!"

Both Harry and Ron shut up.

"Thanks a bunch, Ginny," Ron gloomily said. I sighed.

"All the good-looking ones taken, Ron?" Hermione said loftily. "Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone _somewhere_ who'll have you."

But Ron was staring at Hermione very strangely, and then he turned to me to do the same.

It was kind of creeping me.

"Hermione – you're a girl," he said. Then he looked over at me. "And Annie is one too!"

"What made you think that?" I hissed sarcastically at him.

"Well _spotted_," Hermione spat at the same time.

"Well - you can both come with us!"

"No, we can't," Hermione snapped.

"Oh come on," Ron said impatiently, "we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has..."

"We can't go with you," I raised my head, glaring at him. "Because we already are going with someone else!"

"No, you're not!"

"Just because it's taken _you_ three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one _else_ has spotted Anya and I are girls!"

Ron stared at her. Then he grinned again.

"Okay, okay, we know you're girls," he said. "That do? Will you both come now?"

"I've already told you, I'm going with someone else!" and Hermione stormed off to the girls dormitory.

"She's lying," Ron said as he watched her go.

"She isn't, neither of them are," Ginny said quietly.

"Who are they going with then?" Ron asked sharply.

"Not telling you, it's their business," Ginny said.

"Right," Ron said, who was looking completely put out, "this is getting stupid. Look, Anne, you go with Harry-"

"Didn't you listen to me, Ron?" I growled. "I already am going with someone else. But even if I still hadn't a date, I wouldn't go with either of you. Not as a last resort!"

Standing angrily, I stormed up to the girl's dormitory.

I snapped shut the door, then went to sit on my bed.

Scrunching my face a little, I grabbed my pillow and started to scream.


	27. Yule Ball

**I have to ask. Why in almost every fiction I had read they put Mr. Weasley as Author and NOT Arthur?**

**By the way, sorry for the delay.**

* * *

Still not ready to face the boys after that outburst, I sat by myself on the library the next few days leading to Christmas.

Draco Malfoy, clearly thinking I didn't have a date, had started to mock me every time he crosses my path. But I had learned to ignore him while being with Harry, so it didn't affect me at all. The third day, however, he decided to annoy me with a different tactic.

"Really, Barton," he began with his drawling voice. "I'm not surprised you haven't been asked. The Ice Queen of Gryffindor is more frightening than the Dark Lord himself. If someone bothered to, they must be really desperate."

I already had stopped dead at the phrase Ice Queen. I know Malfoy is really an annoying prat, but… could it be true? That's how everyone calls me behind my back? _Frightening almost as Voldemort?_

"_Oppugno!_"

A lot of flying paper birds appeared from the corner and they went directly towards Malfoy.

"Wha – GET OFF ME!" Malfoy started to wave his hands above his head, trying to stop the attack of the birds. In the end, he ended running away, with the paper yellow birds following behind.

Everyone around me was laughing at Malfoy's expense.

"It's not true," a familiar velvet voice said. I looked up and saw a serious James Leopold, comfortably leaning against the wall. Both arms crossed on his chest, he stared over at me with stern eyes. Both silver ones made a shiver run down my spine.

"What Malfoy said," he continued. "It's not true at all."

"How do you know?" I asked him bitterly. "You've been over here, what? Two months?"

"Enough time to say you're not an Ice Queen," he retorted calmly. "You're just a cautious person. That's all."

I looked hard at him, but James kept his calm composure. In his eyes, I could see – understanding?

Hope so. I don't want_ him_, from all people, to pity me.

"Besides," he feigned to clean dust from his red jacket. "You would have to be a nutter if you believe what the sly ferret said. Weren't you supposed to know him for four years? It would be a pity if you began to take him seriously."

I couldn't help it. I smiled.

James made a motion with his head and then towards me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"Come on," he said. "I think Dobby would love to make us some chocolate. Chocolate always cures the sadness."

But just as we turned around, we stopped dead at the sight of a person.

A girl was in front of our path. She had straggly, mid-back dirty blonde hair. Her eyebrows were pale, almost invisible to mere sight. But what most caught our attention were her grey eyes. They were more protuberant than those of a child, giving her a permanently surprised look.

And she was looking straight at me. Or at James. Her eyes were wandering between the two of us, so I couldn't tell properly.

"Your hair would look lovely if it was untamable and free as an heliopath," she said in a dreamy sort of voice. Well… it's clearly she referred to me. James already has all his hair messy. But, what is an heliopath?

With a last dreamy smile, she disappeared, humming

Stunned, James and I slowly started walking to the kitchens.

"What was that?" I asked curiously.

Shrugging, James said, "I think you just received a tip for the Yule Ball."

* * *

To my disappointment, Hermione woke up earlier on Christmas morning. I had planned on waking her up with the Aquamenti spell… oh well! I guess we can't get everything we wish for.

"Merry Christmas!" Hermione said too cheerfully. She was like this since she informed us with whom she was going to the Yule Ball. Except after Ron pointed out, quite rudely, we weren't much as girls. Or when Ron asked every moment about her date…

"Merry Christmas," I said. Lavender and Parvati were nowhere in sight. I suppose they went to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Getting up, the first thing I saw was a small pile of gifts at the end of my bed. I smiled. _To think, four years ago, I didn't have any friends that cared enough to give me a small present…_

Like usual, Mrs. Weasley had sent me a homemade sweater. This year it was black and had a big white bluish snowflake on the middle, and not to forget her delicious mince pies.

Hermione, of course, had bought me a new book. But it was a Muggle one. _Dracula_ from Bram Stoker.

"Hermione?" I asked her curiously, raising the book for her to see.

Her cheeks turned a little pink.

"I thought it would be a nice change for you. You know, with all the Wizard books we have."

I chuckled. "Yeah… vampires are chicken soup for ma soul."

Uncle Sirius got me an invisible pocket knife for multiple uses. It came with a note and I quote, _"For those petty boys that ought to think are smarter than you."_

Don't know how, but Harry bought me a Paramore poster. From Ron, I received a very larger box of Honeyduke's best chocolates. To prove her point to James, Ginny also sent me a poster from her favorite all-woman Quidditch team, the Holyhead Harpies. Neville sent me a beautiful hair brooch with tiny snowflakes on it. Even if Tonks had said the dress and the boots were my Christmas gift, she sent another small detail.

Makeup and Sleekeazy's Hair Potion for the occasion. The latter would be more useful for Hermione, I think.

Hagrid's present by now has been the best one. It was a handmade carved wooden frame with a Wizard photo of Hermione, Harry, Ron and me. It must have been taken when we were on Care of Magical Creatures, because I could see behind us Hagrid's hut. I don't remember when this happened actually, because we were smiling and chuckling all together.

Natasha had sent me a rather curious gift. At least for me. Because, it was a large brown leather strap bag. And it had two long laces with two small ruby gems and wing-shaped ornaments at the ends.

_Hope you like it. It was made by your father. He meant to give it to you when you were of age, but I think you'll need it sooner. It can store much more items than it looks, and only you can get them out. It has more tricks, but there's still time to tell._

_Merry Christmas._

_Nat._

From… my dad… I had tried to not think much of him. Tried, being the key word. The thought of his resemblance to Tom Riddle slightly unnerves me, and at the same time, intrigues me.

But like Nat said, there's still time for that.

"Ooof!" I fell sideways on my bed, grabbing one of the posters to not roll to the floor.

Hermione was hugging me in a tight hold with both arms. I could only see her bushy hair all over my face.

"Annie, thank you, thank you, thank you!" she exclaimed in a girlie way. "They are gorgeous!"

She retracted from me and let me see my gift to her on her hands. It was a tiny box with diamond earrings in flower shape to match her periwinkle blue dress for the Ball.

"I thought they would fit well," I said, awkwardly scratching the back of my neck. "You know – with your dress and all."

And there was a last gift.

It didn't have a name.

_Again._

What is it with me receiving presents without cards?

This box was plain. There was only a single black ribbon on it.

It was starting to creep me slightly.

_Come on, Anya. You can do this. Is just a box._

I pulled off the ribbon, and slowly lifted the box.

* * *

_Harry's POV_

Ron and I, along with Neville, were waiting impatiently downstairs on the common room.

"What's taking them so long?" grunted Ron. He was really hungry in the moment, and he was not going to miss the Christmas breakfast. Then again, Annie was always in the same state. Maybe she would hurry down in any moment.

"Maybe they still are sleeping?" Neville suggested. It was very strange to see Neville talking to us so freely, without shying away from us. I suppose his change had to do with new involvement with Annie and James Leopold.

"How are we going to wake them up?" Ron wondered. "I mean – we can't go upstairs –"

A bloody scream made him falter on his words.

Another scream made us jump.

"_Bloody hell!"_

"What – what was _that_?"

"I think it was –" I started.

"_I AM GOING TO KILL HIM!"_

That made a shiver ran down our spines. I recognized that voice very well, and I had prayed to never listen that sinister tone again. The sound of sudden strides reached our ears, and we all winced when we saw the angry look on Annie's face.

She took one look at us and then, without greeting us, continued walking towards the Fat Lady's portrait. From our place, we could hear her muttering darkly.

"Did you both saw _that_?" Ron whispered afraid. Not that I blamed him.

Once again, we heard someone coming down, but this time with calm steps.

Hermione was looking like if she was holding her laugh, but a few giggles were escaping from her mouth.

"Hermione, why was Annie angry?" I asked.

Giggling, Hermione looked down. I hadn't noticed she was carrying a box.

"What is in there?" Neville asked warily.

Now laughing, Hermione opened the lid and –

"A hare?" Ron snorted.

Inside the box, was a white hare moving happily its nose. A red ribbon was attached to its neck.

"Actually, it's a stuffed animal," Hermione corrected. "Annie didn't notice it was just a toy with an _Animate_ spell."

"Ani – what?" I said.

"Honestly," Hermione huffed. "The Animate spell allows any object to come alive."

Now that I looked closer, the bunny had button eyes and in its arms, the sewing couture was more perceptible to eye.

"I don't understand," I furrowed my eyebrows. "Why Annie was mad? I thought girls liked things like that."

"Well –"

"Oh _no_!" Neville moaned. We looked over at him. He was clutching a tiny note on his left hand.

"_Dear Bunny,_

_Hope you like it and always remember me when you see it._

_J._

_PS. Guess where I am?"_

"J?" Ron asked.

"James," Neville supplied. "Annie told us her secret and made us promise to not tell anyone. As you see, James tried to make a prank to her."

"You mean to tell…" Ron said slowly.

"…that Annie, our serious, scary friend, is afraid…"

"Of bunnies?" we both ended. We looked at each other and started to laugh. It was quite hilarious that Annie, whom had faced Voldemort twice, is afraid of bunnies. But that does explain why she always says bunnies are evil.

Clearly exasperated, but still smiling, Hermione said, "You do realize that our serious and slightly murderous friend is searching for James to probably kill him?"

Neville sighed.

"I will go for the bat."

_Bat...?_

* * *

_Anya's POV_

I almost got him near the Black Lake. I had him on my hands… _more like choking him from behind_… but Neville came with the bat – again – and separated us before I could either fed James to the Giant Squid or drown him or choke him…

Please, don't ask how the bat thing works. You don't want to have nightmares.

Hermione gladly had borrowed my jacket, so we all later then returned to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch, which included at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings, and large piles of Cribbage's Wizarding Crackers.

We went out into the grounds in the afternoon; the snow was untouched except for the deep trenches made by the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students and the one James did when I chased him. Even if I was still on my pajamas, I decided to play in the snowball fight.

"But Annie, you'll freeze to death!" Hermione had shrieked.

With Ginny joining us, the odds were on the game. Fred, George, James and Ginny vs. Harry, Ron, Neville and I.

It was a battlefield where no one was safe.

But at five o' clock, Hermione announced it was time for us to prepare for the ball. I looked at my wrist watch and nearly fell on the snow. Three hours until it all starts!

"What, you both need three hours?" Ron said, looking at us incredulously. Taking advantage of his distraction, George threw a snowball and hit the side of his head.

"Give my greetings if you pass some bunnies!" James called dramatically.

Before he knew it, I had already made a snowball and threw it to his face.

As everyone laughed, Ginny, Hermione and I were already walking away.

"Hermione, who are you going with?" Ron called desperately from behind us; but Hermione just waved her hand at him.

It seemed as if we were on our way to a deadly mission as we headed to Gryffindor Tower.

Once we arrived, the first thing we did was taking a shower. Not that I smelled or anything, but Ginny said it was a requirement for every date. Could you believe that when we finished, there was already a line waiting for each shower?

After that, we went for the hard job: straighten Hermione's hair.

It took us one hour for it, with the help of Tonks' present, but we fairly managed. Ginny, being more of an expert on this was the one who made Hermione's hair in an elegant knot.

Ginny was already ready. I had helped her curling her hair, and we let it fall down gracefully on her back. She was wearing a long sleeveless jade dress that clashed with her red hair. All in all, she looked beautiful. James would probably need an emergency napkin to not drool on her.

I hadn't properly seen Hermione's dress, only knew its color, but now that she's wearing it, I could see clearly that she wasn't my bookish friend anymore. It was made of chiffon and had an hourglass shape and waist belt. It had layers of different shades clearer than the Periwinkle color.

And just as I thought, the flower shaped earrings matched wonderfully with her new appearance.

Unfortunately, I was the only one left to be ready.

I still haven't thought of what hairstyle do, so I first put all my hair on a ponytail and first started with my makeup.

Tonks once said I urgently needed to act like a girl, so she taught me how to put makeup. I had very well put on a good fight.

But Nat then agreed with Tonks, and both obligated me to make a full change. I used a thin layer of foundation and blush. I applied grey Smokey eye shadow and nude pink lip gloss too.

My hair was only left.

_Your hair would look lovely if it was untamable and free as an heliopath,_ I heard the words of the strange girl echo on my head. As much as that still creeped me out, the girl maybe was right. It doesn't hurt to try.

Looking for the book Hermione gave me on my birthday, I looked over at the list of the Elemental spells, where I read spells Wiccans did using the earth's natural elements.

"_Aeris,"_ I found. "_NOTE: Use with precaution. It depends on the energy of the caster to power it up."_

It couldn't possibly be that right.

Pointing my wand directly at my hair, I said loudly, "_Aeris_!"

And then it felt like if a tornado was casted on me.

"Finite, _Finite_!" I yelped. The air stopped.

I looked to the mirror. Well… it certainly looks untamable…

Grabbing my hairbrush, I tried to make it seem a little less bushy. Getting a new idea, I grabbed my gift from Neville and put it on, holding the left side of my hair. More confident that I didn't look like a stereotyped witch, I looked over at the mirror. I didn't look bad. Actually, I didn't look like me at all.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

"Annie, come on," Ginny's voice called behind the door. "We are going to be late!"

I let out a long breath.

_Ready or not, Barton… here we go._

* * *

_Harry's POV_

I was standing with my date, Parvati Patil, her sister, Padama, and Ron in the Entrance Hall, were all the students were nervously waiting to be eight o' clock, time when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open.

Ron had just grabbed my shoulders and hid behind me, leaving the Patil twins confused. Fleur Delacour was passing by, looking stunning in a silver-gray satin dress, by her side was Roger Davies, Ravenclaw Quidditch captain.

Once they were out of sight, Ron straightened up and looked over at the crowd, asking for Hermione.

I don't understand Ron in times like these.

A group of Slytherins came up the stairs from their dungeon, with Malfoy at the front. Pansy Parkinson was clutching his arm – quite painfully, may I add – wearing a frilly pink pale dress. I smirked when I saw both Crabbe and Goyle without partners.

The oak front doors opened, and everyone turned to look as the Durmstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. All the lot was wearing the same formal red suit, with Viktor Krum's only differing with a red and brown fur leather cloak. He was at the front of the party, accompanied by a pretty girl in blue robes I didn't know.

James Leopold seemed to be desperate to be separated from them. It wasn't the fact that he was wearing dark blue robes that differentiated him from his school, but that he quickly walked away towards a lonely corner, where a lonely girl awaited for him.

It was a shock to see Ginny Weasley dressed up very neatly with a jade dress. It suited her perfectly like a glove. I was starting to get used to see her wearing the school robes, but it was a very pretty change.

I looked to another side, and I quickly noticed Cedric Diggory standing with Cho Chang. _She was beautiful… _Cho was wearing a tight Asian styled dress, her up on an elegant bun. I stared mesmerized as she smiled at the people that passed her. How I wished that –

Her eyes turned to where I was, and I felt myself smile goofily in return. My heart almost stopped when she too smiled back, but then Cho looked at her partner.

My smile dropped and I started to frown. I had another reason to win this Tournament.

I suddenly noticed that everyone had stopped talking at once, staring behind me.

I turned around – and found myself gaping along with everyone.

At the top of the stairs was Neville, looking quite presentable on his black robes and his neat hair. But what really everyone watched was the person who was at his side.

It was possibly the most beautiful girl I've ever seen - after Cho, of course. She barely reached Neville's shoulder, giving her a sort of pixie look. Her long hair looked almost untamable, like if she had flown all over the Quidditch pitch, slightly restricted by a small white brooch on the left side of her head. Her white dress was the most Muggle one I had ever seen. It was a strapless and was little below her knees, fanning on the ends. I could see too, that she was wearing white boots that seemed made of the same fabric as the dress. The girl could be one of the fairies resting on the bushes outside in the front lawn.

I looked at her face, but it didn't seem familiar to me at all.

"Bunny!" I heard two voices yell. James and Ginny both walked quickly at the end, meeting the notorious couple once they gave a last step down.

"Did they just say 'bunny'?" Ron wondered a little breathless.

I frowned and stared at the group of four while they chatted animatedly, and it wasn't until the girl lifted her face and looked straight at me that it dawned.

It was Anya Barton.

* * *

_Anya's POV_

"Why the whole place is dead quiet?" I whispered at Neville, letting my chin drop to my collarbone and looking silently at the stairs.

"They are staring," Neville answered equally nervous.

"Do I have a bug or something?" I asked frantically, mentally searching for the nauseous feeling of an animal on my head.

"No, but –"

"Bunny!" I lifted my face, relief washing over me when I saw James and Ginny coming over to us.

"Hey guys," Neville smiled at them.

Eyeing me, James said, "Neville, where did you leave the cranky girl that tried to drown me on the Black Lake this morning? Because," he pointed an accusing finger to me, "she certainly isn't the same gal."

"Ha ha," I deadpanned. James smirked.

"You look great, Bunny."

"You two ain't going to stop calling me like that sooner, right?"

"Nope," they answered in unison. Neville chuckled.

Soon, the three of them locked themselves on a conversation about what Mr. Dumbledore brought to decorate the Great Hall, with me adding a new idea, causing a whole change of topic every time.

Feeling a little bold, I looked up over at Ginny's shoulder and found hot emerald eyes staring directly at me.

It almost felt as if my world had stopped.

Harry's eyes were boring deep into mine with an expression of disbelief and – was it awe? He was also gaping slightly.

Quickly, I looked away, willing myself to not let a blush cover my face. My heart started beating fast, almost too loud that my friends were able to hear it. Why did he stare? It was only me, Anya.

Or perhaps Neville lied and I _do_ have a bug on my hair…

"Champions over here, please!" Professor McGonagall's voice called.

All the students, except the champions and their partners, were ushered through the Great Hall. Passing Hermione, I gave what I assume (more like hoped) was a reassuring smile.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

The four of us choose a table near the top one, joined later by an angry Ron and a sulky Parva – wait no, Padma, I think – Patil.

Thank god I wasn't wearing heals, because I believe I would have stumbled when the champions entered. First was Fleur Delacour with the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain, followed by Viktor Krum and Hermione. I smiled brightly at her, and she did the same, but her face turned into a frown and saw her looking to my right. I looked subtly too, and noticed that Ron was narrowing his eyes when she passed.

Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang certainly looked as the more happy couple from them. At end, Harry seemed to be dragged in by Parvati, whom flashed a smile to everyone she locked eyes with.

I looked again at the top table. Mr. Dumbledore was smiling happily, Karkaroff was using the same sour expression like Ron as Hermione and Krum neared. r. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, was clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who had changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, was applauding them politely. And instead of Mr. Crouch, I saw Percy Weasley sitting on his boss's seat, looking like the supreme ruler he wished he was.

"What's Percy doing here?" I asked Ginny and Ron over the noise. Ron ignored me, as he continued looking at Hermione with the same expression, and Ginny shrugged her shoulders in an 'I-don't-know' way.

As the champions took their seats, I looked down at my plate. It was empty. I looked around and saw that everyone's too were, and there wasn't food on sight.

I had the urge to whine in protest. There wasn't the Christmas afternoon tea, and now they want to starve us. Magnificent.

Looking around again, I suddenly locked eyes with Mr. Dumbledore, whom was wearing an amused look as he watched me almost whine.

This time I _did_ blush.

But then he picked up one of the many menus on the tables and saw him mouth 'Pork Chops'.

And Pork Chops appeared. Mr. Dumbledore looked up, and I can swear he winked at me. Whether he did or not, thank you sir.

While we ate, I noticed a lot of stares towards our table. Some boys were staring over at me or at Ginny, and girls debated to either glare at us or smile dreamily at James. Believe or not, I saw one Hufflepuff girl looking at Neville with a flustered face.

When most students had already finished eating, Mr. Dumbledore applauded, calling our attention and announced that it was time for dancing. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoomed back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes were set upon it. The "Weird Sisters now trooped up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they were all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that had been artfully ripped and torn. Then they started playing a mournful song that somewhat seemed more proper for a funeral than a dance.

They picked up their instruments and the champions along their partners stood up, walking towards the dance floor. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Harry tripping over his robes as Parvati dragged him with her. James, Ron and Ginny sniggered while Neville shook his head fondly. Harry looked over at us and the sniggering trio raised their hands, as if they were holding wine glasses, at him. When his eyes met mine again, I only managed a sheepish look and shook my head too.

I frowned when I saw Parvati grabbing both Harry's hands and put one on her waist, the other clutched so tightly on her hand was turning a bit purple.

"Wanna dance?" I heard James ask Ginny. She nodded enthusiastically and they both went swiftly to the dance floor, a pair of couples following them.

Neville cleared his throat nervously.

"Um – do you, well – um –"

"Do you want to dance with me?" I asked him. Neville sighed in relief when I freed him from the awkward question.

"Yes, please."

Holding our hands nervously, we headed to the most excluded part of the dance floor, where Parvati pulled Harry from side to side in a sorry attempt to make him guide her.

Not looking at our faces, Neville put his right hand on my waist and I took hold of his free one with my right one. Seeing as Neville was taller than me, I had to clutch his robe instead of his shoulder. We swayed a little on our tiny spot, but growing more confident, Neville started to steer me all along the song's sad rhythm.

As we turned, I caught sight of Ginny and James dancing nearby – they too were dancing slowly – and even from here, I could see a dull blush on Ginny's face.

"Look!" Neville whispered/exclaimed.

He turned me around slowly and I saw what he meant. Mr. Dumbledore was waltzing with Madame Maxime, and he was so dwarfed by her stature that his pointed hat barely tickled her chin. I laughed, and Neville soon joined me.

With a final quavering note, the Weird Sisters stopped playing, and applause filled the Great Hall.

I sighed.

"At least I didn't throb on your feet," Neville commented.

"I hope so," I heard a male voice said. James and Ginny approached us smiling. Ginny had already stopped blushing. "I mean, for an hour every day you have been stomping my feet, at the expense of my pain, and still not know how to dance?" he shook his head tutting. "With all my grief, I would've killed you."

"James!" Ginny hit his chest.

"Ow! Blimey woman, I was joking!"

We all laughed at James' expense as he pouted. The Weird Sisters struck up a new song, a much faster one –

And a familiar too!

I gasped, "'_Beat it_'? As in, Michael Jackson? How did they –"

"What happens is, that a certain person has a great influence on people and kindly decided to lend his music player to the band," Ginny said amusedly aloud. "Who could have been?" she tapped her finger on her chin thoughtfully. Neville actually put his mind wotking to solve this.

"You –" I stared at James incredulously, "– really are a box of surprises, aren't ya?"

James shrugged innocently.

And then we started to dance crazily. I didn't even know half of the steps we were doing, and soon we were joined by Fred and George, along with their dates, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell. We had to move carefully around them, seeing as they made some wild moves that I wasn't sure were safe.

At one point, I noticed that Hermione and Ron, with Harry and Padma on the same table, were having a heated discussion, resulting on Hermione storming through the thick crowd and I lost sight of her.

Ron was looking on her way with a kind of grim satisfaction. And then Padma stormed away too.

I danced more slowly watching the scene. It seemed that Krum had gone for drinks and was looking for his date, only to be answered quite rudely by Ron. And then it seemed payback was on, as Percy arrived on their table and started talking at once.

I stopped paying attention when I was twirled around and found myself face to face with the Weasley twins.

This was going to get interesting…

* * *

_Harry's POV_

"I don't know who Maxime thinks she's kidding," I said, watching Madame Maxime sitting alone at the judges' table, looking very somber. "If Hagrid's half giant, she definitely is. Big bones… the only thing that's got bigger bones than her is a dinosaur."

I had never heard Hagrid talk about his childhood, but that woman… it was cold of her to lie to him as Hagrid pretty much professed his love for her.

Ron and I continued to talk quietly about Giants in our corner, not feeling like dancing. I tried to not look over at Cedric and Cho too much; it gave me the desire of kick something.

It was some time later that we hadn't anything else to talk about, not even Quidditch seemed as good for a talk, both Ron and I ending sulking in our spots.

It was nearly midnight when I noticed a shadow hovering over me that I finally snapped my gaze away from the floor. Looking up, I saw a calm Annie staring at me with wide doe-like eyes.

"Hello," she said softly.

"Hey," I sourly said, looking away.

It unnerved me a little that she still stood there looking at me, I could feel heat starting to slowly rise up to my neck at her calculated stare.

"You do realize that Ron had already left and that you are the only one in this section…" she trailed off.

I looked around me, and found she was right. Ron wasn't here anymore. Maybe he did announce his departure and I was sulking looking over at Cho to really care.

"Come on," Annie took hold of my hand and tugged it slightly. I stood up, and she dragged me towards the dance floor.

"What –"

"It is very sad that you have not danced more than just the entry," she said quietly. We continued walking until we were on the middle of the floor. There weren't much people here just four more couples dancing and a few lone students sat on the tables.

To my surprise, they put on a slow song, more cheerful than the first one. Somehow, I recognized it from one of Aunt Petunia's soap operas that she loved to watch in the afternoons.

I felt Annie turning to face me, never ceasing to hold my hand. A little awkwardly, I put my hand on her waist, and put her free one on my shoulder.

We started to slowly sway in our spot. Annie didn't steer me over and over, like Parvati did. But that meant I was the one doing it, and I honestly didn't knew how to. Annie must have surely noticed that, but she didn't seem to care if we suddenly started to dance as exuberantly as Fred and Angelina.

I didn't pay attention to the lyrics of the song. I just… listened.

I know that in another time, I would have been blushing from embarrassment and awkwardly from how close we were, but… I didn't.

Facing upwards, the ceiling was showing a starry night, free of the blocking snow.

For the first time… I felt peaceful.

"Merry Christmas Harry," I heard Annie whisper near my ear.

I smiled.

"Merry Christmas Anya."

_Thank you for the peaceful moment._

* * *

_**The final song in this chapter is **__Fall for You_ by Secondhand Serenade.


	28. Happy New Year

_Anya's POV_

My heart had reached a certain point of coma with all the damn beating. I seriously didn't know what I did it, but the little voice on my head said 'DO IT!'. I dragged Harry with me to dance. Seeing him there so lonely, sitting on the dark corner, made my heart ache.

I didn't recognize the song, but it certainly sounded like a Muggle one.

_But hold your breath  
because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you  
over again.  
Don't make me change my mind  
or I won't live to see another day  
I swear it's true  
because a girl like you is impossible to find  
you're impossible to find._

I sighed. Could it be possible that I was developing a crush on Harry Potter? I am not even sure of what I felt most of the times.

We swayed together in sync, like if we had already done this. We stumbled a little in our steps, but I was too much enthralled listening to the lyrics to take importance of it.

_This is not what I intended  
I always swore to you I'd never fall apart  
you always thought that I was stronger  
I may have failed  
but I have loved you from the start._

I lifted my chin and rested it on his shoulder, sighing softly at the end.

"Merry Christmas Harry," I whispered.

_But hold your breath  
because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you  
over again._

"Merry Christmas Anya," he said softly.

I shivered when he used my whole name.

_Tonight will be the night that I will fall for you  
over again._

I certainly don't know what to feel anymore.

* * *

They had fought again. This time I couldn't however help Hermione. I am completely sure those two have feelings for each other, but they are too much stubborn to admit it. Having problems on answering myself if I have feelings for Harry, I much less can help Hermione right now.

On Boxing Day, she confessed to both Harry and Neville what Ginny and I had to do to straighten her hair.

"– but it's way too much bother to do every day," she said matter-of-factly, scratching a purring Crookshanks behind the ears.

Ron and Hermione seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement not to discuss their argument. They were being quite friendly to each other, though oddly formal. Scary, if you ask me.

I acted like if that dance hadn't happened at all when Harry was near. I didn't want him to scare himself away from me if he assumes I 'fancy him'. Not that I sure, though.

In some point of the ball, Harry and Ron told us about the conversation they had overheard between Madame Maxime and Hagrid, but Hermione didn't seem to find the news as shocking as Ron. I, on the other hand, just shrugged. Hagrid was still Hagrid, half giant or not.

"Well, I thought he might be," she said, shrugging. "I knew he couldn't be pure giant, because they're about twenty feet tall. But honestly, all this fuss about giants. They can't be all horrible... it's the same kind of prejudice people have towards werewolves... It's just bigotry, isn't it?"

That was the thing Hermione didn't understand. I too, had read about giants, and their actions in time certainly left doubts about their nature.

Ron had shaken his head in silent disbelief, opting to not get on another row with Hermione.

* * *

It was the final day of December, fifteen minutes left for the New Year to begin. Moment in which I found myself on the cold Astronomy Tower.

At least I wasn't alone here.

"Tell me again, what are we doing here?" I asked for the fifth time. An annoyed sigh answered me.

"I already told you, Annie," Neville said exasperated, "James dragged me and then told me to drag you here."

"Well, I hope he hurries up, because my arse is freezing out here," I braced myself, looking comfort on my own arms. My teeth were chattering, the cold air hitting me hard on my face.

The chilling air gave an eerie feeling to the Tower this night. If Neville wasn't here, I honestly would have fled to Gryffindor Tower, where there was a fireplace, where my box of chocolates was hidden…

But NO! I have to wait here in the cold to some crazy idea of that maniac!

The sound of footsteps brought our attention towards the entrance. James was panting on the top of the stairs, a bag dangling from his shoulder.

"Sorry for the delay," he panted, trying to get a hold of the railing. "I – OW!" he yelped when I pinched him in the arm. "What was that for?!"

"You do realize we have been waiting here for an hour, freezing to death, because _you_ dragged us here?" I said quite sarcastically.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled. "Sorry for that."

"Why did you call us up here?" Neville asked before I could hit James again.

James raised one finger, meaning to wait a second. Searching into his bag, he drew large pieces of parchment. One was blue, the other was purple, and the last one was scarlet. He handed us ach a piece, James kept the blue one. Neville had the scarlet parchment, and I got the purple.

We looked down at the parchments confusedly, and then at each other, and finally looked questionably at James.

"Crumple the papers," he said, starting to do so with his.

We stared at him, until he finally sighed.

"It's a tradition," he started, "my uncle and I always do this every New Year at midnight. Or used to," James frowned.

"What happened?" I asked him. He shrugged.

"Don't want to talk about it," he mumbled. "The thing is, that you crumble the paper, burn it, and then you threw it away. It's supposed to take away your problems, start anew and all that."

His perfect parchment was now a paper ball.

"Look closely," he said.

He walked over to the railing, were we could see more openly the dark night.

And clearly as the night, he said, _"Incendio!"_ and his paper burnt on his hands.

I gasped.

"James!" we yelled.

"Relax," he turned around. The paper was still burning in his hands, the flames same color as the parchment was before. But the fire didn't seem to injure James at all. "These parchments are enchanted to not let the flames injure. Now, you two try."

Neville looked nervously at me. I gulped. So it was me first.

I looked at the parchment in wonder and fear. What if it burned me?

I closed my eyes.

"_Incendio!"_

But it wasn't me who said it. I opened my eyes and looked over at Neville. His had widened frantically, and I certainly didn't blame him. In his hands rested his piece of parchment, but instead of blue flames, his had turned scarlet.

"Amazing!" he breathed. James smirked and looked at me, the intensity of their flames hypnotizing me.

"Well, you're next, bunny."

I glared at him for the nickname, but looked down at my crumple paper.

"_Incendio_," I whispered. It sparked a little, and then all the paper followed. Suddenly, the flames turned purple and –

_Oh dear_. It felt – different. As if… I had my own heart beating in my hands. It was energy that was flooding through me, _through my soul_…

_It was life._

"Okay, now we throw them away," we walked towards the railing and, as sadly as I still wanted to feel this, I threw it to the night.

"That's all?" I asked him. It was starting to get very cold, and the lack of the flame on my hands didn't help either.

"Wait," James grabbed my hand and looked at my wrist watch. "Okay, just one more minute."

A minute for New Year.

_Forty seconds…_

_Thirty seconds…_

_Twenty seconds…_

_Ten seconds…_

_**Five…**_

_**Four…**_

_**Three…**_

_**Two…**_

And suddenly the flames exploded.

"What the –"

To our surprise, the flames became small fireworks. Colored sparks flying everywhere in the darkness which chiefly around the tower. I did not feel the cold wind, which was replaced by the warm light of the scrolls.

It was a sight for sore eyes.

The surprise didn't end there.

The fireworks reverted to flames, except that now they were forming shapes. There was a giant blue crow flying around the tower, blue sparks trailing behind its wings. The scarlet flames roared so loud we had to cover our ears: a lion pounced across us, its large mane of hair floating gracefully with every pounce. And the purple flames spread across the sky. Each tiny spark transforming on beautiful large butterflies. They flew on the sky as one whole being. I felt something on my shoulder, and when I turned, I found myself nose to wing to one of them. It tickled a little, disappearing when I tried to touch it.

And then everything disappeared in a whoosh of wind.

We stood there, still looking over at the sky.

"Happy new Year, guys," James said. He was smiling softly at the stars. Neville was staring in wonder and tenderness at what we just experienced.

"Happy New Year," he replied softly.

I once again looked at my shoulder, and then down to my hands. I felt a smile starting to grace my face.

"Happy New Year."


	29. Skeeter's Scoop

_A green flash of light flashed through my eyes._

_The same men with the white skull masks were making a circle around someone._

_I could feel pain. Sorrow. My arm was hurting like hell._

_I could hear a cold laugh surrounding me, sending a shiver down my spine._

_All of that disappeared, and instead, I was gazing up at a statue that reminded me awfully of the personification Muggles do with Death. And down, the words _Tom Riddle, 1905-1943,_ were craved on stone._

_My eyes started to burn. I couldn't see straightly. Everything was becoming a sort of blur._

_A brilliant golden light shone from behind me, it's warm making me feel everything's going to be fine, even if I knew it wasn't true._

_Last thing I saw was those cold red blood eyes staring at me. Right into my hazel eyes. They were burning. Hate… danger…curiosity… all the feelings were a strange change for him, as he had thought he would never feel the same… again._

"_At last…"_

I woke up with a shuddering gasp.

* * *

"Annie, are you sure you're feeling well? You know I can tell Professor Hagrid that you don't –"

"No, really, Neville," I smiled at him. "I am okay. It's just a small headache. It should go by the end of the class."

Even if I said this, I could help but frown and rub my head. I had waked up this morning drenched on my sweat. Hermione had to practically drag me to the Great Hall, and was looking quite worried. It wasn't that I just suddenly stopped wanting to go to eat my breakfast. It wasn't normal.

But so wasn't this feeling.

I am really trying to remember. I am very sure this headache has something to do with my dream. The trouble is, I can't remember.

Neville had been nagging me to go to the Hospital Wing, but I had tried to tell him nicely this didn't mean something serious. He was starting to annoy me.

Good thing I didn't too, because instead of Hagrid meeting us near his cabin with the skrewts, an elderly witch with closely cropped gray hair and a very prominent chin was standing on his front door, wearing what I could recognize as a scowl.

"Hurry up, now, the bell rang five minutes ago," she barked at us as we struggled toward her through the thick snow that still reigned on the grounds.

"Who're you?" Ron asked. "Where's Hagrid?"

"My name is Professor Grubbly-Plank," the woman said briskly. "I am your temporary Care of Magical Creatures teacher."

"Where's Hagrid?" Harry repeated loudly.

"He is indisposed," Professor Grubbly-Plank said shortly.

Annoying laughter reached my eyes. Malfoy and the Slytherins had arrived, looking gleeful and they were not surprised to see the supplant teacher here.

Something fishy was going on, here.

"This way, please," Professor Grubbly-Plank said, and she strode off around the paddock where the Beauxbatons horses were shivering. I continued staring at Hagrid's hut. I could barely see a light humming inside. What was happening to him?

"What's wrong with Hagrid?" Harry said, hurrying to catch up with Professor Grubbly-Plank.

"Never you mind," she said as though she thought he was being nosy.

"I do mind, though," said Harry hotly. "What's up with him?"

The Professor simply ignored him.

She led us past the paddock where the huge Beauxbatons horses were standing, huddled against the cold, and toward a tree on the edge of the forest, where a large and beautiful unicorn was tethered.

I whistled while the other girls "ooooohed!" at the sight of the unicorn.

"Oh it's so beautiful!" Lavender whispered. "How did she get it? They're supposed to be really hard to catch!"

The unicorn was so brightly white it made the snow all around look gray. It was pawing the ground nervously with its golden hooves and throwing back its horned head.

"Boys keep back!" Professor Grubbly-Plank barked, throwing out an arm and catching Harry hard in the chest. "They prefer the woman's touch, unicorns. Girls to the front, and approach with care, come on, easy does it..."

There was no point to try and ask for Hagrid apparently. So, feeling still somewhat apprehensive, I followed the other girls. The unicorn seemed scared as we slowly approached him. Not that I blamed him. Half of the girls (mainly Lavender, Parvati and Pansy Parkinson) seemed ready to squish the life out of him. It was minutes later that we all were finally stroking the Unicorn by turns (said three girls returning for more).

"Are you paying attention over there?" Professor Grubbly-Plank barked. She was looking at the boys. Dean, Seamus, Neville and Ron were surrounding Harry. He was angrily holding what it looked like a copy of today's _Daily Prophet._

When the lesson ended, all the girls continued gushing about the unicorn, the boys were a little interested but still disappointed for not touching it, and surprisingly suspicious, the Slytherins were either smiling (evilly) or smirking.

I looked over at Neville and found him wearing a frown, biting his lip too.

"I don't like that look," I said to him the moment I was close. "it means you know something I don't want to know."

Neville continued biting his lip.

"I'm not sure how to explain, but Harry has the article –"

"What does the article have to do with this?" I asked cautiously.

He sighed. "You'll see."

So we had to run and catch up with the others, which were heading for lunch to the Great Hall.

"I hope she stays, that woman!" Parvati said when we finally were behind them. "That's more what I thought Care of Magical Creatures would be like...proper creatures like unicorns, not monsters..."

"What about Hagrid?" Harry interjected angrily.

"What about him?" Parvati said in a hard voice. "He can still be gamekeeper, can't he?"

Parvati had been very cold towards Harry since the ball. I can understand why she seems bitter at Harry, but at the contrary from him, I heard she had spent a very good time with the Beauxbatons boys.

"That was a really good lesson," said Hermione when she saw me. "I didn't know half the things Professor Grubbly-Plank told us about uni -"

"Never mind that!" I waved at her, gaining a disapproving scowl. "Do you either know what happened to Hagrid?"

Nodding furiously, Harry snarled, "Look at this!" shoving the _Daily Prophet_ article under our noses.

_**DUMBLEDORE'S GIANT MISTAKE**_

The title itself had made my stomach drop. Was this –?

_Albus Dumbledore, eccentric Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has never been afraid to make controversial staff appointments, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In September of this year, he hired Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody, the notoriously jinx-happy ex-Auror, to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, a decision that caused many raised eyebrows at the Ministry of Magic, given Moody's well-known habit of attacking anybody who makes a sudden movement in his presence. Mad-Eye Moody, however, looks responsible and kindly when set beside the part-human Dumbledore employs to teach Care of Magical Creatures. _

_Rubeus Hagrid, who admits to being expelled from Hogwarts in his third year, has enjoyed the position of gamekeeper at the school ever since, a job secured for him by Dumbledore. Last year, however, Hagrid used his mysterious influence over the headmaster to secure the additional post of Care of Magical Creatures teacher, over the heads of many better-qualified candidates._

_An alarmingly large and ferocious-looking man, Hagrid has been using his newfound authority to terrify the students in his care with a succession of horrific creatures. While Dumbledore turns a blind eye, Hagrid has maimed several pupils during a series of lessons that many admit to being "very frightening."_

"**I was attacked by a hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got a bad bite off a flobberworm," **_says Draco Malfoy, a fourth-year student. _**"We all hate Hagrid, but we're just too scared to say anything."**

_Hagrid has no intention of ceasing his campaign of intimidation, however. In conversation with a Daily Prophet reporter last month, he admitted breeding creatures he has dubbed "Blast-Ended Skrewts," highly dangerous crosses between manti-cores and fire-crabs. The creation of new breeds of magical creature is, of course, an activity usually closely observed by the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Hagrid, however, considers himself to be above such petty restrictions._

**"I was just having some fun,"**_ he says, before hastily changing the subject._

_As if this were not enough, the Daily Prophet has now unearthed evidence that Hagrid is not - as he has always pretended - a pure-blood wizard. He is not, in fact, even pure human. His mother, we can exclusively reveal, is none other than the giantess Fridwulfa, whose whereabouts are currently unknown._

_Bloodthirsty and brutal, the giants brought themselves to the point of extinction by warring amongst themselves during the last century. The handful that remained joined the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and were responsible for some of the worst mass Muggle killings of his reign of terror_

_While many of the giants who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed by Aurors working against the Dark Side, Fridwulfa was not among them. It is possible she escaped to one of the giant communities still existing in foreign mountain ranges. If his antics during Care of Magical Creatures lessons are any guide, however, Fridwulfa's son appears to have inherited her brutal nature._

_In a bizarre twist, Hagrid is reputed to have developed a close friendship with the boy who brought around __**You-Know-Who**__'s fall from power - thereby driving Hagrid's own mother, like the rest of You-Know-Who's supporters, into hiding._

_Perhaps Harry Potter is unaware of the __**unpleasant**__ truth about his large friend – but Albus Dumbledore surely has a duty to ensure that Harry Potter, along with his fellow students, is warned about the dangers of associating with part-giants._

Terrifying students? Bloodthirsty and brutal nature? _Our Hagrid?_

As I read again every paragraph of this – this, laughable article, I plainly decided that Skeeter should have been a Muggle gossiper.

Hermione's mouth was hanging open.

"How did that horrible Skeeter woman find out? You don't think Hagrid _told_ her?"

"No," said Harry, leading the way over to the Gryffindor table and throwing himself into a chair, furious. "He never even told us, did he? I reckon she was so mad he wouldn't give her loads of horrible stuff about me, she went ferreting around to get him back."

"Maybe she heard him telling Madame Maxime at the ball," said Hermione quietly.

"We'd have seen her in the garden!" Ron snapped.

"How come she got in? Skeeter's supposed to be banned from grounds by Dumbledore," I said.

"Maybe she's got an Invisibility Cloak," Neville suggested. The three of them exchanged looks at this. Harry was ladling chicken casserole onto his plate and splashing it on my cloak. I looked down at it and sighed. Would I always be the walking napkin or what?

"Sort of thing she'd do, isn't it, hide in bushes listening to people," Neville mused softly.

"Like Harry and Ron did, you mean," said Hermione frowning.

"We weren't trying to hear him!" said Ron indignantly. "We didn't have any choice! The stupid prat, talking about his giantess mother where anyone could have heard him!"

"We've got to go and see him," said Harry. "This evening, after Divination. Tell him we want him back . . . you _do_ want him back?" he shot at us.

I scowled at him while Neville nodded. "The question itself offends me, Potter!"

"I - well, I'm not going to pretend it didn't make a nice change, having a proper Care of Magical Creatures lesson for once - but I do want Hagrid back, of course I do!" Hermione added hastily, quailing under Harry's furious stare.

But that evening, Hagrid did not let us in in his hut. He disappeared for all the weeks, Professor Grubbly-Plank taking his place in both the staff table and during his classes.

* * *

Halfway through January, Hogsmeade visit came a Saturday.

Grumbling, James complained once again about his Headmaster for not letting everyone else, besides Krum, to get out of Hogwarts grounds. I actually found it quite enjoyable, seeing as I still haven't got revenge on him for scaring me with the plushy.

"Aww, come on Bunny!" he pouted. "You can't hate me all your life for a tiny joke. Besides, you make Billy feel sad."

Neville had raised an eyebrow at this, while I was looking at him incredulously.

"You – you named the plush toy?"

"Mind you, you named him Billy?"

"Well, yes," James stood up with pride, looking at us as of daring him for the name. "Now, if you excuse me –"

Sniggering, we left the castle and set off through the still cold, wet grounds toward the gates. As we passed the Durmstrang ship moored in the lake, we saw Viktor Krum emerge from the water wearing nothing but swimming trunks. He was rather skinny considering how though he looked.

"Is he nuts?" I wondered aloud.

"Must be," Neville shrugged, not really caring.

As we were on the streets, I kept my eyes peeled for Hagrid. It was like the ground had swallowed him, as there was no sign of him.

We first went to Zonko's. I bought a package of dungbombs for James as a peace offer. Neville offering to bought him sweets this time on Honeydukes.

Our final stop was the Three Broomsticks. As the last time we were here, the pub was crowded. We both went up to the bar, ordering two Butterbeers. I was never ever going to be sick of the drink.

"Hey, there are Ron and Hermione!" Neville exclaimed. He was right: they were sitting on a table in the farthest corner to the door, surprisingly, it was less crowded than where we stood. Hermione was waving at us to join them.

"Hey guys," I said.

"Where's Harry?" asked Neville as we sat down.

"Right here," a voice said behind me. Thank god I still hadn't taken a sip, because I felt my breath hitch when he sat down beside me. I had the urge to move myself closer to Neville from nervousness. I almost groaned aloud. What had happened to me to be acting like this?

Oh right. A simple dance with Harry under an enchanted ceiling with a starry night.

"Where were you?" I asked him with difficult.

"With Ludo Bagman."

"What did he want?" Ron asked.

"He offered me help with the golden egg," Harry said.

"He shouldn't be doing that!" Hermione said, looking very shocked. "He's one of the judges! Anyway, you have it figured out already, don't you Harry?"

"Er- nearly," I could tell he was lying. He was avoiding our gazes.

"Well, I don't think Dumbledore would like it if he knew Bagman was trying to persuade you to cheat!" Hermione said, still looking deeply disapproving. "I hope he's trying to help Cedric as much!"

"He's not, I asked," said Harry.

"Who cares if Diggory's getting help?" Ron asked.

"Because Cedric would be in disadvantage," Neville said, but it sounded more like a question. Both Harry and Ron shrugged.

"Those goblins didn't look very friendly," Hermione said, sipping her butterbeer. "What were they doing here?"

"Looking for Crouch, according to Bagman," Harry said. "He's still ill. Hasn't been into work."

"Maybe Percy's poisoning him," Ron said. "Probably thinks if Crouch snuffs it he'll be made Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

I snorted in my jar, almost choking.

Hermione gave Ron a don't-joke-about-things-like-that look, and said, "Funny, goblins looking for Crouch...They'd normally deal with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"Mr. Crouch speaks loads of different languages," Neville said. "Maybe they need an interpreter?" it was a theory, but there was more on this.

"Worrying about poor 'ickle goblins, now, are you?" Ron asked Hermione. "Thinking of starting up S.P.U.G. or something? Society for the Protection of Ugly Goblins?'

"Ha, ha, ha," Hermione said sarcastically. "Goblins don't need protection. Haven't you been listening to what Professor Binns has been telling us about goblin rebellions?"

"No," Harry and Ron said together.

"Let me put it simpler for you two," I clapped my hands. "Goblins are rather sadist," I put a finger on my neck and made the cutting notion. "Get the idea?"

It seemed as my short explanation was simple enough when Harry and Ron paled. Ron looked behind me and let out an "Uh – oh."

I subtly turned around, and when I saw Rita Skeeter, I let out a huff of annoyance, puffing both my cheeks. _Note to myself: make disappear that habit. _

The woman seemed to want to catch the attention. She was wearing banana-yellow robes and her long nails were painted in magenta. Not to forget that haircut of hers.

She bought drinks, and she and her paunchy photographer (whom I just noticed) made their way through the crowds to a table nearby us. Skeeter was talking fast and looking very satisfied as she did so.

"...didn't seem very keen to talk to us, did he, Bozo? Now, why would that be, do you think? And what's he doing with a pack of goblins in tow anyway? Showing them the sights...what nonsense...he was always a bad liar. Reckon something's up? Think we should do a bit of digging? 'Disgraced Ex-Head of Magical Games and Sports, Ludo Bagman...' Snappy start to a sentence, Bozo - we just need to find a story to fit it -"

"Trying to ruin someone else's life?" Harry said loudly.

"Probably," we all muttered. Well, only Ron and me. But I bet Hermione and Neville are thinking so!

"Harry!" Skeeter said, beaming with wide eyes behind her jeweled spectacles. "How lovely! Why don't you come and join- ?"

"I wouldn't come near you with a ten-foot broomstick," Harry said furiously. "What did you do that to Hagrid for, eh?"

Rita Skeeter raised her heavily penciled eyebrows.

"Our readers have a right to the truth, Harry. I am merely doing my-"

"Who cares if he's half-giant?" Harry shouted. "There's nothing wrong with him!"

The whole pub had gone very quiet. Madam Rosmerta was staring over from behind the bar, apparently oblivious to the fact that the flagon she was filling with mead was overflowing.

Skeeter's smile flickered very slightly, but she hitched it back almost at once; she snapped open her crocodile-skin handbag, pulled out her Quick-Quotes Quill, and said, "How about giving me an interview about the Hagrid you know. Harry? The man behind the muscles? Your unlikely friendship and the reasons behind it. Would you call him a father substitute?"

Hermione stood up very abruptly, a few drops of her drink falling on my lap. I sighed. Why do I even bother?

"You horrible woman," Hermione said, through gritted teeth, "you don't care, do you, anything for a story, and anyone will do, won't they? Even Ludo Bagman -"

"Sit down, you silly little girl, and don't talk about things you don't understand," Skeeter said coldly, her eyes hardening as they fell on Hermione. "I know things about Ludo Bagman that would make your hair curl... not that it needs it -" she added, eyeing Hermione's bushy hair.

I stood up, slamming my chair on the floor, dragging her attention towards me.

"Say that again?"

"And you are…?" Skeeter eyed me up and down. I flushed in annoyance.

"Why tell if my name's going to get on the Prophet anyway," I crossed my arms. "Am I right?"

I smirked in satisfaction when Skeeter turned a little red. I couldn't see the blush with all the makeup she wore.

"Time to go!" announced Neville. He stood up quickly, took hold of my arm, and almost dragged me away from the glaring contest I was having, the trio following behind us. Unfortunately, I could hear a quill scribbling quickly on parchment.

"She'll be after both of you next," Ron said in a low voice.

I scoffed. "Like I care what people says of me!"

_Liar!_

"Let her try!" Hermione said defiantly; she was shaking with rage. "I'll show her! Silly little girl, am I? Oh, I'll get her back for this. First Harry, then Hagrid..."

"You don't want to go upsetting Rita Skeeter," Ron said nervously. "I'm serious, Hermione, she'll dig up something on you -"

"I don't have anything to hide," I exclaimed.

"And my parents don't read the _Daily Prophet_. She can't scare me into hiding!" Hermione said. We were striding angrily to the grounds, right directly to Hagrid's hut.

"And Hagrid isn't hiding anymore! He should _never_ have let that excuse for a human being upset him! Come _on_!"

We broke into a run all the way back up the road, through the gates flanked by winged boars, and up through the grounds to Hagrid's cabin.

The curtains were still drawn, and we could hear Fang barking as we approached.

"Hagrid!" Hermione shouted, pounding on his front door. "Hagrid, that's enough! We know you're in there! Nobody cares if your mum was a giantess, Hagrid! You can't let that foul Skeeter woman do this to you!"

"Hagrid, you're just being ridiculous!" I shouted. "Open that damned door or I am going to blow it into pieces!" I pulled out my wand, pointing it at the wooden door.

"Bloody hell Annie!" "Are you crazy?" "Put the wand down!"

"One –" I counted. "Two – three –"

But the door opened in that moment. Good, I still haven't mastered the spell.

Hermione said, "About t -!" and then stopped, very suddenly, because we became face-to-face, not with Hagrid, but Albus Dumbledore.

"Afternoon sir!" I greeted him, nodding.

"Good afternoon, Miss Barton," he said pleasantly, smiling down at us.

"We - er - we wanted to see Hagrid," Hermione said in a rather small voice.

"Yes, I surmised as much," Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling as he slyly looked over atme. I looked up to the sky in embarrassment. "Why don't you come in?"

"Thanks sir," I said to him, seeing as Hermione lost her tongue.

The five of us entered the cabin. Fang launched himself upon Neville the moment he entered, barking madly and trying to lick his ears. Snickering, Ron fended off the dog from him.

Hagrid was sitting at his table, where there were two large mugs of tea. He looked a real mess. His face was blotchy, his eyes swollen, and he had gone to the other extreme where his hair was concerned; far from trying to make it behave, it now looked like a wig of tangled wire.

"Hi, Hagrid," said Harry.

Hagrid looked up.

"'Lo," he said in a very hoarse voice.

"More tea, I think," Dumbledore said, closing the door behind Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I, drawing out his wand, and twiddling it; a revolving tea tray appeared in midair along with a plate of cakes. Dumbledore magicked the tray onto the table, and everybody sat down. There was a slight pause, and then Dumbledore said, "Did you by any chance hear what Miss Granger was shouting, Hagrid?"

Hermione went slightly pink, but Dumbledore smiled at her and continued, "Hermione, Harry, Ron, Neville and Anya still seem to want to know you, judging by the way they were attempting to break down the door."

His eyes twinkled merrily as everyone looked over at me. I coughed and scratched my neck looking at the ceiling, trying to avoid their eyes.

"Of course we still want to know you!" Harry said quickly, staring at Hagrid. "You don't think anything that Skeeter cow - sorry Professor," he added quickly, looking at Mr. Dumbledore.

"I have gone temporarily deaf and haven't any idea what you said, Harry," Dumbledore said, twiddling his thumbs and staring at the ceiling.

"Er-right," Harry said sheepishly. "I just meant-Hagrid, how could you think we'd care what that-woman-wrote about you?"

Two fat tears leaked out of Hagrid's beetle-black eyes and fell slowly into his tangled beard.

"Living proof of what I've been telling you, Hagrid," Dumbledore said, still looking carefully up at the ceiling. "I have shown you the letters from the countless parents who remember you from their own days here, telling me in no uncertain terms that if I sacked you, they would have something to say about it -"

"Not all of 'em," Hagrid said hoarsely. "Not all of 'em wan' me ter stay."

"Really, Hagrid, if you are holding out for universal popularity, I'm afraid you will be in this cabin for a very long time," Dumbledore said, now peering sternly over his half-moon spectacles. "Not a week has passed since I became headmaster of this school when I haven't had at least one owl complaining about the way I run it. But what should I do? Barricade myself in my study and refuse to talk to anybody?"

"Yeh - yeh're not half-giant!" Hagrid said croakily.

"Hagrid, look what I've got for relatives!" Harry said furiously. "Look at the Dursleys!"

"An excellent point," said Professor Dumbledore. "My own brother, Aberforth, was prosecuted for practicing inappropriate charms on a goat. It was all over the papers, but did Aberforth hide? No, he did not! He held his head high and went about his business as usual! Of course, I'm not entirely sure he can read, so that may not have been bravery..."

"I don't think that's the point, sir," I muttered.

"Come back and teach, Hagrid," Hermione said quietly, "please come back, we really miss you."

Hagrid gulped. More tears leaked out down his cheeks and into his tangled beard.

Dumbledore stood up. "I refuse to accept your resignation, Hagrid, and I expect you back at work on Monday," he said. "You will join me for breakfast at eight-thirty in the Great Hall. No excuses. Good afternoon to you all."

Dumbledore left the cabin, pausing only to scratch Fang's ears. When the door had shut behind him, Hagrid began to sob into his dustbin-lid-size hands. Hermione kept patting his arm, and at last, Hagrid looked up, his eyes very red indeed, and said, "Great man, Dumbledore...great man..."

"Yeah, he is," Ron said. "Can I have one of these cakes, Hagrid?"

Neville slapped his own forehead.

"Help yerself," Hagrid said, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. "Ar, he's righ', o' course - yeh're all righ'...I bin stupid...my ol' dad woulda bin ashamed o' the way I've bin behavin'..." More tears leaked out, but he wiped them away more forcefully, and said, "Never shown you a picture of my old dad, have I? Here..."

Hagrid got up, went over to his dresser, opened a drawer, and pulled out a picture of a short wizard with Hagrid's crinkled black eyes, beaming as he sat on top of Hagrid's shoulder. Hagrid was a good seven or eight feet tall, judging by the apple tree beside him, but his face was beardless, young, round, and smooth - he looked hardly older than eleven.

"Tha' was taken jus' after I got inter Hogwarts," Hagrid croaked. "Dad was dead chuffed...thought I migh' not be a wizard, see, 'cos me mum...well, anyway. 'Course, I never was great shakes at magic, really...but at least he never saw me expelled. Died, see, in me second year...

"Dumbledore was the one who stuck up for me after Dad went. Got me the gamekeeper job… trusts people, he does. Gives 'em second chances... tha's what sets him apar' from other heads, see. He'll accept anyone at Hogwarts, s'long as they've got the talent. Knows people can turn out okay even if their families weren'... well... all tha' respectable. But some don understand that. There's some who'd always hold it against yeh… there's some who'd even pretend they just had big bones rather than stand up an' say - I am what I am, an' I'm not ashamed. 'Never be ashamed,' my ol' dad used ter say, 'there's some who'll hold it against you, but they're not worth botherin' with.' An' he was right. I've bin an idiot. I'm not botherin' with her no more, I promise yeh that. Big bones… I'll give her big bones."

I blinked. Did Hagrid realize he was muttering about Madame Maxime? Neville didn't seem to understand what was he talking about at the end. Honestly, neither I did.

"Yeh know wha, Harry?" Hagrid said, looking up from the photograph of his father, his eyes very bright, "when I firs' met you, you reminded me o' me a bit. Mum an' Dad gone, an' you was feelin' like yeh wouldn' fit in at Hogwarts, remember? Not sure yeh were really up to it... an' now look at yeh, Harry! School champion!"

He looked at Harry for a moment and then said, very seriously, "Yeh know what I'd love. Harry? I'd love yeh ter win, I really would. It'd show 'em all... yeh don' have ter be pureblood ter do it. Yeh don have ter be ashamed of what yeh are. It'd show 'em Dumbledore's the one who's got it righ', lettin' anyone in as long as they can do magic. How you doin' with that egg, Harry?"

"Great," Harry said. "Really great."

Hagrid's miserable face broke into a wide, watery smile.

"Tha's my boy… you show 'em, Harry, you show 'em. Beat 'em all."

But Harry did not answer. He was looking down at his lap, his shoulders stiff as a wall.


	30. Second Task

**OH MY GOD, I am very sorry for the delay. But just I returned to school, I was given three very long homework's per day. Nasty those things, if you ask me.**

**Sorry if the chapter was too... don't know how to express it, but lets let it on "if it doesn't satisfy you all". Deeply sorry.**

**Okay, carry on!**

* * *

"You said you'd already worked out that egg clue!"

Jumping a little, I looked over at the back of the classroom. I caught a glimpse of a very annoyed Hermione before a pillow hit my face.

"OUCH!"

I rubbed my face with a sigh and glared over at Seamus. He waved sheepishly back at me.

We were on Charms class, practicing the contrary of the Summoning Charm – the Banishing Charm. Good thing we were practicing with pillows, because I was already hit five – scratch that – six times by Seamus' bad coordination of aim, two accidental times by Dean, another one from Lavender, and –

Oh yeah. I too, myself flew too, courtesy of Neville's poor aim.

"Concentrate Neville," I told him soothingly. "Just relax…"

My nerves were to a stake point. I barely managed to make it flew, but it seemed that my flowing annoyance increased my ability, and the pillow abruptly had landed on one of the aimed boxes.

Neville tried, but his hand trembled so badly that he instead aimed for Professor Flitwick and the little man resignedly went whizzing above Hermione, Ron and Harry. Sadly, the Professor was getting used to this.

* * *

February passed by, and there was little time left for the Second task.

The Trio had started disappearing on me and I haven't seen them on a while. When it was time to sleep, Hermione was already snoring softly, a bunch of books here and there on her bed.

I know they had been searching for a spell to help Harry on his second task. Hermione didn't explain it fondly to me, but from what I understood (Hermione needs to stop mumbling on her sleep), he needs something to help him breath under water for one hour.

To James's horror and Neville's confusion, I dragged both of them to the library. Three hours earlier than the Trio, and exactly at eight o' clock, we already were having lunch on the Great Hall, time that Harry, Ron and Hermione exactly arrive.

"Why in Merlin's beard do I have to get up three hours earlier to get in here?" James demanded one time in the library. His voice echoed through the high ceiling, making the sleepy Madam Pince's head to snap up, searching for the founder of such ruckus.

"Shhh!" I put a hand on his mouth. Unfortunately, he licked it. "Eugh! Why did you do that?" I am very sorry for the random book on which I had cleaned.

"I am asking the same! Answer!"

"Why you little –"

"OUCH!" "HEY!"

You may not think it, or even possibly imagine it, but Neville had just hit us with two rather thick books on the head.

You see, many people came to underestimate Neville Longbottom. The shy, awkward, not brave nor smart boy from the Gryffindor house was more than what they had thought. Maybe it was because his grandmother made his self-esteem so low that he was scared of his own shadow. Maybe it continued because Snape always calls him idiot boy, or because McGonagall always has to remind him about the spells. It may have become lower in our Second year when he compared himself with a Squib, or when he was punished because Crookshanks stole his parchment with passwords for my uncle in Third year.

But there was one thing for sure. Neville was a very loyal and mind centered person. He knew what he wanted (even if he was afraid to said it), he was sure on his work (he only demonstrate it on Herbology) and most importantly of all –

He was not afraid to hit James or me when we annoyed him.

"Sorry," we mumbled, not feeling sorry at all.

"Either way, James has a good point, Annie," Neville said. James made a sound of triumph. "Why are we here? When we could be outside on the Black Lake –"

"– Or any other place as long as it is far away from the library!" James grumbled loudly.

I frowned at him. "I thought you liked the library?"

"No, no, no, no, no, no! I said I liked the 'flying books', not the damned place!"

Neville and I rolled our eyes. It was one of these times James finally got all worked up because of his daily walking snow and he suddenly started to grumble about anything. The snow this, his classmates do that, Karkaroff has a stick up to his –

"Yeah, well," I pushed away a book and grabbed another one. "You both noticed that we hadn't seen Harry, Hermione or Ron lately, right?"

"Yeah…?" they drawled curiously.

"And you know that the Second task is close by…"

"Aha…"

"I – well, you see –"

"Ha!" James slammed down his fist. "I knew it! I knew it!"

I looked at him annoyed.

"What do you know?" I questioned.

"That we unknowingly had been trying to help Potter because you fancy him!"

I felt myself pale. My eye started twitching.

"What are you talking about? I don't know what you mean by that. That's completely –"

"– true? –"

"– irrational, and – wait, what?"

I flushed while my mouth was hanging open. Dread started to form in the pitch of my stomach. _Fancy_… _Harry Potter_… _me_…?

I shook my head. That was completely untrue. It was nonsense! I couldn't like Harry! It would be so – cliché!

"Don't try to deny it, bunny!"

James waved his index finger as if trying to scold me.

I just stared at him until I found out my voice.

"… We need to find something that helps a wizard breath under the water for an hour," I looked out to the nearest window, the one facing the Black Lake. "…That's the second task."

What I didn't notice at the moment was… that I didn't deny any of his accusations.

* * *

Breakfast on Monday was annoying. James kept looking over at me smugly since that day on the library. Neville had politely decided to 'stay out' of this, leaving me alone to deal with the annoying _Leopold_.

I was eating peacefully. You know, my scrambled eggs and pumpkin juice, when I felt something boring into my forehead. I looked up, and not surprisingly enough, James was already here, creepily staring, and – wearing a Sherlock Holmes hat?

My fork was left hanging on midair. Very slowly, I put it down, not breaking eye contact.

"Why… are you wearing that?" I asked slowly.

James looked puzzled at me until I pointed at his head.

He shrugged. "I'm not sure."

A screech made us to look up. Flying like a small bullet, Caleb fell onto James 'head. He grabbed my owl with the tip of his fingers, looking at it confused.

"Isn't this your owl…?"

"It seems so…" Cal squawked loudly and suddenly fell with a thud on my plate. The tiny owl quickly pulled himself up and held out his leg, as if trying to ignore all of this happened. Finally noticing it, I took out the note from his leg.

_Send date for next Hogsmeade weekend by return owl as soon as possible._

_Snuffles._

I almost laughed. Snuffles? What's with people inventing nicknames these days? First bunny, then snuffles… people really has lost their inspiration.

With Caleb perched on my shoulder, I walked over at Harry, whom was surprisingly eating again. That boy really should care about his health.

"Hi, Harry," I greeted him normally, although when his green eyes met mine, my heart skipped a bit. Thank god he didn't notice.

"Hey Annie," and disappointment flashed through me. Annie…? Why didn't he call me Anya, like the last time? I liked it when he called me Anya… it made me feel – special… everyone here calls me Annie…

"Snuffles send his regards," I said and let him the note and my owl, returning quickly to my side.

I am seriously starting to think James was right. And I am only trying to deny this awkward feeling.

* * *

It was very late for still trying to investigate, I knew it. But it was only the evening before the task, and that morning I had seen Harry so desperate, so I supposed he still hadn't found something to help him.

This time I was all alone by myself on the kitchens, trying to figure out something. A lot of books surrounded me, as well as some empty plates the house elves had given me.

I've been here since - you know what? I actually don't remember what time is. I suppose is near midnight... or maybe there's still time left for ten o'clock.

Dobby, the ex-house elf, had been trying to convince me to go to sleep. 'Miss should go to her tower! Harry Potter's friend needs to rest! Miss doesn't look well!'

It was until I told him directly that Harry was in 'terrible' danger that he finally shut up.

I was much as well asleep when a loud bang echoed in the kitchen. All the house elves stopped doing their usual works, looking as deer's caught in the spotlight. Sleepily, I opened one eye to see what was going on.

Neville was panting terribly on the floor, clutching his left side of his own torso, giving me the impression he was almost dying. But most likely, he was breathless... or I certainly hoped so.

"Neville?" I looked once more at him curiously. he was trying to stand up, but alas, he ended kneeling on the floor. House elves were crouching around him, asking if 'sir' was right. "Wadda're ya doing 'ere?" I asked him groggily, rubbing my eyes as I did so.

"An - Annie!" he gasped. More like wheezed if you ask me. "I - I found something!"

I blinked once. Twice. Three more times.

"Huh?"

Gasping, he sat beside me, putting a book on the table in front of us. I couldn't see clearly what title was. Only the blurry face of my friend was slightly visible, and all my mind could think of was of the twenty plates of pudding that were scattered around us.

Without caring, I put my arms in front of me and leaned my chin on my elbows. Evil bunnies cackled, sitting in front of us. Why couldn't they just shut up like Dobby did?

Good Lord, I was hallucinating now.

"I mean, I found something! For the task!" Neville's voice broke me out of my reverie. Snapping my head up, I tried to blink quickly, willing the blurriness to go away from my sight.

"Say again?"

"It's not a spell," he filled in quickly, opening the book and passing page through page as he talked. "Its a plant. Do you remember Professor Moody gave me this book? I found it - here!"

Grabbing the booK from his hands, I read fast, skipping some lines in the way, until I found the important part.

_Gillyweed. It lends the wizard fins and gills, permitting him or her the ability to breath beneath water mostly during an hour._

My eyes widened.

"Great Scott! That's it!" I yelled, scaring some nearby elves that decided to be nosy. "Nev, you're a genius!"

Laughing, I hugged him arm-sided and gave him a very loud kiss on the cheek.

"Do you know where do we found this _magnificent_ plant in school grounds?"

"Well, its used for Herbology, but..."

He pointed a little below.

"..._It's main use relays almost entirely on... Potions_?! You've got to be kidding me," I muttered bitterly.

This meant that the damned Gillyweed was on Snape's personal stores.

I moaned. Neville too, looked a little disheartened.

"You know what that means..." he started softly.

"Yes, I do," I gulped. "Neville - how in god's sake I am going to get that Gillyweed? Snape sure has more wards in there than Azkaban has on."

The sound of someone clearing his throat brought our attention. Turning slowly behind us, I found myself staring into tennis-ball-like green eyes. It was Dobby the one that called our attention.

"If Dobby can say, Miss," he started, looking as if he was in a business meeting. "I think Dobby can help you both help Harry Potter."

* * *

_Harry's POV_

Something was pocking me on my side.

"That hurts - get off - ouch!"

I was still too enthralled on my nightmare. The mermaid was trying to steal my Firebolt and there was nothing I could do.

"Harry Potter must wake up, sir!"

"Stop poking me -" I mumbled, waving my hand to the unknown offender.

"Dobby must poke Harry Potter, sir, he must wake up!"

Too tired of the poking, I opened my eyes. Where was I? Oh yes, the library. My Invisibility Cloak was on the floor. _How did it got there?_ I wondered. It must have fell some time during the night. I embarrassedly have to admit I drooled on the pages of _Where There's a Wand, There's a Way. _I must be thankful Hermione wasn't here, or I would have received a very long lecture of how to properly take care of books.

I sat up slowly, straightening my glasses. The bright daylight hitting me full on the face.

"Harry Potter needs to hurry!" Dobby squeaked. "The second tasks starts in ten minutes, and Harry Potter -"

"Ten minutes?" I croaked, more aware of reality. "Ten - _ten minutes?"_

I looked down at my watch. Dobby was right. It was twenty past nine. A large, dead weight seemed to fall through my chest into my stomach.

"Hurry, Harry Potter!" Dobby squeaked, plucking at my sleeve. "You is supposed to be down by the lake with the other champions, sir!"

"It's too late, Dobby," I said feeling hopeless. "I'm not doing the task, I don't know how -"

"Harry Potter _will_ do the task!" the elf squeaked. "Harry Potter will do the task. Anya Barton knew Harry had not found the right book, so miss Anya searched for him! Neville Longbottom, sir, he helped her!"

"What?" I asked shocked. "But _they _don't know what the second task is - _you_ don't Know what the task is - "

"I do, sir!' Dobby exclaimed, looking quite proud. "Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Wheezy -"

"Find my what?"

"- and take his Wheezy back from the merpeople!"

"What's a Wheezy?" I asked, feeling more confused.

"Your Wheezy, sir, your Wheezy-Wheezy who is giving Dobby his sweater!" Dobby plucked at the shrunken maroon sweater he was now wearing over his shorts.

"What?" I gasped. "They've got. . . they've got Ron?"

"The thing Harry Potter will miss most, sir!" squeaked Dobby. "'But past an hour-'"

"- 'the prospect's black,'" I stared horrified at the elf. He had to be joking me. " 'Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.' Dobby - what've I got to do?"

"You has to eat this, sir!" squeaked the elf, and he put his hand in the pocket of his shorts and drew out a ball of what looked like slimy, grayish-green rat tails. "Right before you go into the lake, sir - gillyweed!"

"What's it do?" I asked, staring at the gillyweed.

"It will make Harry Potter breathe underwater, sir!"

"Dobby, listen - are you sure about this?" I asked cautiously.

Last time Dobby tried to "help" me, I ended with no bones on my right arm.

"Dobby is quite sure, sir!" the elf said earnestly. "Anya Barton finds out about it from Neville Longbottom and his book, _Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean._ They told Dobby about it and Dobby got some from Professor Snape's office! Dobby heard Professor McGonagall and Professor Moody in the staffroom, talking about the next task and his wheezy... Dobby cannot let Harry Potter lose his Wheezy!"

My doubts vanished. Jumping to my feet, pulled off the Invisibility Cloak, stuffed it into my bag, grabbed the Gillyweed, and put it into my pocket, then tore out of the library with Dobby at my heels

"Dobby is supposed to be in the kitchens, sir!" Dobby squealed as we burst into the corridor. "Dobby will be missed - good luck, Harry Potter, sir, good luck!"

"See you later, Dobby!"

I just hoped this works.

* * *

_Anya's POV_

It was time for the Second task. All the students had been shunned away to a sort of platforms installed above the Black Lake.

With thrumming hearts in our throats, Neville and I awaited with abated breath as we stood beside the dock's railing; James, Ginny, Fred, George and their friend, Lee Jordan, were behind us, talking animatedly about random things. Dobby had offered to help and get the Gillyweed, and then look for Harry and give it to him. At first, we weren't so sure if it would be successful, but Dobby just said _'A house elf can do anything, Miss.' _Since then, we hadn't seen him.

But what certainly worried me was that there was no sight of Harry. Or Ron and Hermione, for that matter.

I had been puffing my cheeks with air, trying to distract myself. Anything right now would be welcome actually! My nerves were already starting to get on me.

"He's here!" Neville yelled. I looked over to where he was pointing and indeed, Harry arrived, splattering mud on Fleur Delacour's robes. I could almost picture her scowling from here.

Dumbledore, Madam Maxime, Karkaroff, Ludo Bagman, and once again, Percy Weasley, were quickly to greet him. Bagman squeezed Harry's shoulder and returned to the judges table, along with the Headmasters.

Bagman pointed his wand at his throat, mouthed something, and suddenly his voice rang across the dark water, the sound reaching all the three docks.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my whistle." Bagman said. "They have precisely an hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One...two..._three_!"

I looked down at the Champions. Cedric and Fleur still stood there, making their spells and what it seemed to be a bubble appeared on their heads. Krum had already jumped in the moment the shrill whistled echoed in the wind. I quickly darted my eyes to Harry.

He was pulling off his shoes and socks, then pulled the handful of Gillyweed out of his pocket, tuffed it into his mouth, and waded out into the lake.

I stared nervously at the water. Did it work?

"What's the matter with Potter?" James asked. "He seemed to be chocking before he dived in."

Neville put both his hands on his head, staring horrified at the lake.

"Oh my god!" he moaned. "I just killed Harry Potter! The plant didn't work!"

For all the good luck I have left, I hope he's just overreacting.

A moment later, I watched as Harry suddenly flew up out of the water in a back flip yelling happily before he disappeared back into the water. Everyone cheered, and Neville looked down at the water in surprise.

I laughed.

"Neville, you really did it!" I exclaimed, but my voice couldn't be heard over the cheering.

* * *

Half an hour later of boredom, a body rose from the water. The silvery hair of Fleur floated around her like a sort of mist. The Beauxbatons girls helped her into the dock. But Fleur was yelling over the winds. Her once adorable accented voice sounded to shrilly from my position.

"She is my _sizter_! I cannot jus' 'eave her there!" she screamed, trying to get out of Maxime's strong hold.

I paled. A sister? That's what Delacour treasured more?

And the truth hit me hard. I yelped in realization, gaining the attention of Neville, James and the rest of the Weasleys.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.

I pointed down at the dark water, opening my mouth to say something, except that I was speechless.

"What?" "Annie, you okay?" "What's the matter Anne?"

"Ron -" I gasped the word out. "He's down there!" they gaped unbelievingly at me.

"You're joking!" "How?" "It's impossible!"

"Don't you understand?" I yelled/exclaimed. Some other students were looking curiously at me, others still stared at the sobbing Fleur. "Ron's the thing Harry most treasures!"

"Ahh, he loves Ronniekins!" the twins cooed, but a glare of my own shut them up.

"And hell, I bet Hermione's down there too," I said quietly.

Forty minutes later, Cedric Diggory surfaced, dragging Cho Chang with him. Okay, so that left Ron, Hermione, and apparently, Fleur's sister.

That meant that... Hermione was Viktor Krum's treasure...? Aww, it was adorable!

To my horror, a shark appeared holding Hermione, it's jaw moving violently as he surfaced fully. But then the shark face transfigured, and Viktor Krum took his place.

I ran towards them and helped him to carry Hermione.

"Are you alright?" I yelled. She nodded, her body was shuddering horribly.

"The treasures are people, Ron-"

"Yeah, I know," I interrupted her, rubbing her arms to get her warm.

"Where's Harry?"

"He still haven't gotten out."

Madam Pomfrey then rushed over at us, taking Hermione with the other Champions and hostages.

I stared at the water, praying for Harry to surface quickly. The hour had been already gone.

Someone up there must have heard me, because at the exact moment, Harry, Ron and a little girl with silvery hair surfaced quickly through the dark water. Both Ron and the girl looked dead, but then they opened their eyes. The crowd roared as merpeople surfaced around the humans on the water: surprisingly enough, they were smiling.

I saw Ron mouth something to Harry, and the latter's face turned annoyed. The boys, helping the little girl, swam towards the judges' table. Mr. Dumbledore and Ludo Bagman beamed at them.

"Gabrielle! Gabrielle! Is she alive? Is she 'urt?" yelled Fleur, Madam Maxime restraining her of running off like a crazy.

Percy suddenly seized Ron and was dragging him back to the bank.

"Gerroff, Percy, I'm all right!"

Both the twins and Ginny rolled their eyes and followed their brothers.

"Come here, you," said Madam Pomfrey, seizing Harry and pulled him over to Hermione and the others, wrapping him in a blanket tightly. It reminded me somehow of a straitjacket. The matron forced him to drink a Pepperup potion and steam gushed out of Harry's ears.

"Harry, well done!" Hermione cried. "You did it, you found out how all by yourself!"

"Well -" Harry started, but suddenly stopped. I followed his gaze and saw Karkaroff staring at him. "Yeah, that's right."

"You haff a water beetle in your hair, Herm-own-ninny," Krum said. Poor bloke was being ignored by his 'treasure'.

"You're well outside the time limit, though, Harry...did it take you ages to find us?" Hermione asked once she waved her hand through her hair. A beetle flew a little away.

"No... I found you okay..."

Dumbledore was crouching at the water's edge, deep in conversation with what seemed to be the chief merperson, a particularly wild and ferocious-looking female. He was making the same sort of screechy noises that the merpeople made when they were above water; clearly, Dumbledore could speak Mermish. Finally he straightened up, turning to his fellow judges, and said, "A conference before we give the marks, I think."

The judges went into a huddle. Madam Pomfrey had gone to rescue Ron from Percy's clutches; she led him over to the others.

I saw Fleur finally managed to get away from her Headmaster and approached Harry. She said something looking quite serious and - she _kissed_ him?! Even if it was just on his cheeks, I could feel irritation crawl on my skin. I puffed out my cheeks.

My mood quickly went away as she kissed Ron, and he seemed to be in his own Nirvana. Hermione looked down furious.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Ludo Bagman's magically magnified voice boomed out, making all the students on the docks go silent. "We have reached our decision. Merchieftainess Murcus has told us exactly what happened at the bottom of the lake, and we have therefore decided to award marks out of fifty for each of the champions, as follows...

"Fleur Delacour, though demonstrated excellent use of the Bubble-Head Charm, was attacked by grindylows as she approached her goal, and failed to retrieve her hostage. We award her twenty-five points."

Applause from the stands, Fleur shook her magnificent head.

"Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was first to return with his hostage, though he returned one minute outside the time limit of an hour." Enormous cheers from the Hufflepuffs in the crowd; I saw Cho give Cedric a glowing look and Harry looked depressed. "We therefore award him forty-seven points."

"Viktor Krum used an incomplete form of Transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective, and was second to return with his hostage. We award him forty points."

Karkaroff clapped particularly hard, looking very superior.

"Harry Potter used Gillyweed to great effect," Bagman continued. "He returned last, and well outside the time limit of an hour. However, the Merchieftainess informs us that Mr. Potter was first to reach the hostages, and that the delay in his return was due to his determination to return all hostages to safety, not merely his own."

I chuckled. That was so normal of Harry.

"Most of the judges," and here, Bagman gave Karkaroff a very nasty look, "feel that this shows moral fiber and merits full marks. However...Mr. Potter's score is forty-five points."

I gaped.

* * *

"Let me get this straight," we were walking to the castle. After spending time in the cold during the task, we all wanted something hot to drink. James had been asking both Neville and I where we were, remembering that we ditched him yesterday. With all the paranoia, I had honestly forgot about him. "You both commanded an elf - "

"No, we asked -"

" - doesn't matter - but you did make an elf steal some weird plant to help Potter on the task. Plant that miraculously was on Neville's favorite book in the exact section were he had been reading this week? Doesn't this seems somewhat fishy to you?"

"I would actually would love to call it luck. If it wasn't for Neville's love for the class, I believe Harry would have been lost in all of these," I commented joyfully.

James just threw his arms in exasperation at us.

"Hey! Anya, Neville!"

We three stopped and turned around. Harry Potter was making his way towards us. We stopped in the entrance hall, surprisingly on a quiet corner.

"Harry," Neville smiled at him. "Congratulations for your win."

"No, I should be thanking you two," Harry said sheepishly. I blinked. "Dobby told me where he got the idea of the Gillyweed."

I mouthed an "Oh."

"I really don't know how to thank you -"

"Its not necessary -" "Really -"

James was gaping openly at our modest behavior. Harry however, still looked sheepish.

"But, I still think that I should do something -"

"Harry," I sighed exasperated at him. "We are friends. And friends always help each others."

And there it was the truth. We could never me more that that. Friends. I would always be on the backstage.

"There's really nothing to thank for," Neville added.

Grinning widely, Harry enthusiastically shook Neville's hand an without warning, he embraced me on a hug.

Still frozen (and probably blushing madly), I awkwardly patted his back.

"Well," he retreated back, "I probably should start looking for Dobby. I ought to say he deserves a lot of pairs of sock for the rest of the year."

And he walked away.

"What am I?" James muttered. "Chopped liver?"


	31. Aftermath for the being

"Okay, I don't understand you. The man practically shoved you a golden opportunity right under your nose during one week, ten times each day, and you - you don't get something in exchange. A good snogging would had been the perfect thing, but noooo! You had to be all bloody noble!"

I rolled my eyes. James and I were near the Greenhouses, waiting for Neville to finish his 'interesting' talk of plants with Professor Sprout and the different uses of Gillyweed. While we both volunteered to wait out for him, we were starting to get bored. Of course, James' new way to get out of the silence was to nag me more than before. The main topic? My obviously "bloody nobility", as he so lovely calls it.

You see, Harry wasn't comfortable knowing he owed us a favor, a _big_ one. So, scarily though, he started stalking us everywhere, always saying if he could pay us with something. _Anything._

And James, still grumpy of being ignored, had decided to bother me in a new way. And as you all see it, it was teasing me of my 'crush'.

Yes, I have already admit it (only to myself). I like Harry Potter, but I couldn't _be_ with him.

"... that way, my time would have been worth it. Did you know you're the only one that had managed to got me up so early? I mean - four in the morning! Not even my uncle had accomplished such thing in all my fifteen years of existence!"

I sighed. Looking through my dad's old bag, I pulled out a rather thick book.

"I almost died of cold with all that snow stuck up on my- OUCH!"

* * *

One week later, the babbling led by the aftermath of the second task still continued. Not only Harry was on the spotlight, but Ron too. At first, he told that Mr. Dumbledore had put all the hostages into a bewitched sleep in Professor McGonagall's office, first assuring them that they would be quite safe, and would awake when they were back above the water. But three days later, I was hearing about his incredible courage when he fought like fifty or hundred armed merpeople single-handedly; according to the story, Ron was beaten into submission until they tied him.

I once caught Ron himself telling the story to his Yuleball date, Padma Patil.

"But I had my wand hidden up my sleeve," he assured Padma. "I could've taken those mer-idiots any time I wanted."

"What, were you going to throw a super snore at them or something?" I asked him skeptically.

Since then, Ron had started telling the original and true version.

Harry and Ron weren't the only ones in the gossip, however, as Hermione was mentioned a lot too. Students teased her a lot for being the thing Viktor Krum would mostly miss. Since then, her mood had been awfully tetchy (I actually got yelled twice in the bathroom by her).

* * *

As March began, the weather became drier, but unfortunately again for James, the wind transformed in almost a wild hurricane. I laughed so badly the first time I saw his black hair spiked out in the same way as Harry's, except it made James look like a crazy muggle scientist. Even Neville had found it funny.

I have to admit, this year, even if began so badly, it had turned out well. I didn't spend much time with Hermione like before, instead Neville was always by my side. It wasn't necessary to listen to Ron's remarks, seeing as James had awfully more accurate ones. And Harry... well, I still like him, but I always try to act _cool_ in front of him. So cool in fact, I had tripped on my own foot twice.

Now I found myself walking on the courtyard, hugging myself and grabbing the sides of my robe. James once again had been complaining about the weather change._ 'What's the problem?'_ I had asked. And then he began his rueful mumbling, and he ended saying _'of course, because you're always here, in the warm walls of Hogwarts, you don't know what it feels like'_. We discussed, ended it with a bet, and here I am, walking in the cold ground, where the air hits me fully on the face.

Of course, the air wasn't the only thing that hit me on the face.

I had both my arms raised, walking on a very large bench. The action remind me of a ballerina - or maybe was a gymnast? - that I saw on the T.V. long time ago. I let the wind hit me full on my body, my hair was flowing behind me like a raging tornado. there was no doubt my hair would likely look like a Hippogriff's nest once I return to the hall.

Maybe to an outsider I looked bonkers, perhaps even wild. Or to more imaginative minds, I was trying to commit suicide. But everything around me had gone eerily silent. _My own world_, I called it when I was six years old.

_Yes._ Everything would be _nonsense_. Not even my young self did understand everything she imagined. And truthfully, I still don't understand this world either.

I stopped dead on my walking. Closing my eyes, I gave one tempting step backwards. I still was on my right footing. _Good._

Another step back. Two more. Three left for. And I still had faith on my instinct.

An odd sound reached my ears. It sounded like a whistle... but it wasn't... I didn't dare to move at all. What was it? The sound now was closer than seconds ago.

Before I knew it, something hit me hard on the face. From the impact, I fell on my back.

I groaned.

"So much pain..." I moaned, but then started gagging. The Offending item was still on my face! My hand closed onto the thing and I lifted it up. I spit out what I felt to be - what, feathers?! With effort, I opened one eye to look at it.

My eyes widened, and I quickly raised up, looking at the 'item'.

"Cal?!" I exclaimed. Looking at him more closely, I immediately knew he was a victim of the air. All of his feathers were stuck up on the wrong way, and he was shaking his wings madly.

"Okay, okay, calm down," I soothed. It took a while for Caleb to finally settle down, and when he did, I noticed he was holding in a vice grip a letter.

It had a dog paw print on the front.

As if someone had pulled a curse on me, I ran as if the devil himself was behind my feet towards the castle.

It was breakfast time, so I found the trio on the Great Hall.

"Guys!" I gasped when I arrived to their side.

"Annie, for goodness' sake! Why are you carrying your owl like that?"

"Huh?" I looked down at my hand. My poor small owl was ready to faint. "Oh! Sorry Cal. This came here just moment ago."

I looked over Harry's shoulder to read:

_Be at stile at end of road out of Hogsmeade (past Dervish and Banges) at two o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Bring as much food as you can._

"He hasn't come back to Hogsmeade?" Ron said incredulously.

"It looks like it, doesn't it?" Hermione said.

"I can't believe him," Harry said tensely, "if he's caught..."

"He's not going to," I told him firmly. "I already told you. That old man has more tricks on his sleeves."

"And it's not like the place is swarming with dementors anymore," said Ron.

* * *

Final lesson of the afternoon was double-Potions. _Joy._

Neville and I were seated on a table at the back of the classroom, facing the door. So when Harry, Hermione and Ron entered, I had a clear view of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, along with Parkinson and Slytherin girls, laughing and sniggering (evilly). Pansy's pug-like face peered excitedly around Goyle's broad back as Harry, Ron and Hermione approached.

"There they are, there they are!" she giggled, and the knot of Slytherins broke apart. I saw a copy of _Witch Weekly _on her hands.

"You might find something to interest you in there, Granger!" Pansy said loudly, and she threw the magazine at Hermione, who caught it, looking startled. At that moment, the dungeon door opened, and Snape beckoned them all inside.

Seeing as there was more space, and it was the only table left, the trio sat with us.

"Hello strangers," I greeted them cheerfully. Hermione rolled her eyes, and once Snape turned his back to us, she hastily rifled through the magazine under the desk. I couldn't see was she was reading but by the way her face was turning red, I figured out it wasn't good. And when they looked at me, I knew it was worse.

"I told you!" Ron hissed at Hermione as she stared down at the magazine. "I _told_ you not to annoy Rita Skeeter! She's made you out to be some sort of - of scarlet woman! The both of you!"

I snorted. "Scarlet woman?" and then I reacted. "Wait, wadda you mean 'both'?"

"Look!" he hissed again and shoved me the magazine on my hands. Neville leaned over my shoulder (of course it wasn't necessary) and we started reading.

_**Harry Potter's Secret Heartache**_

_A boy like no other, perhaps - yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence, writes Rita Skeeter. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss._

_Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgarian Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, has already invited her to visit him in Bulgaria over the summer holidays, and insists that he has "never felt this way about any other girl."_

_However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms that have captured these unfortunate boys' interest._

_"She's really ugly," says Pansy Parkinson, a pretty and vivacious fourth-year student, "but she'd be well up to making a Love Potion, she's quite brainy. I think that's how she's doing it."_

_Love Potions are, of course, banned at Hogwarts, and no doubt Albus Dumbledore will want to investigate these claims._

_Although, it seems Mr. Potter does has another opportunity for his school sweetheart. Anya Barton, a pretty and - as students call her - cold-hearted Gryffindor in the same year, has apparently caught our youngest Champion's eye. But, will she too, break his heart? The fourth-year student girl is always seen on the company of fellow Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom, and Bulgarian student, James B. Leopold. Perhaps, she's playing with the hearts of these boys._

_"It's more likely," says Draco Malfoy, a well known student. "Barton doesn't seem interested at all in her friends' personal feelings. She always likes to play by her own rules."_

_The silent girl however, had began to show a rising attraction to her friend. Could it be that the Ice princess of Gryffindor had began to finally crack that hard shell of hers?_

_Your writer can only wish her good luck in this battle where everything is valid._

_In the meantime, Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart on a worthier candidate._

I did the first thing it came to my mind. I giggled.

"What are you giggling at? How can any of this be funny?" Ron asked.

"Because all of this is just rubbish," I chocked out. But I couldn't help but wonder, was it that obvious I fancy Harry?

"If that's the best Rita can do, she's losing her touch," Hermione said, giggling, as she threw _Witch Weekly_ onto the empty chair beside her. She looked over at the Slytherins, who were all watching Hermione, Harry and me. Smiling sarcastically, we both waved at them (me more cheerfully than her). Then the trio started unpacking the ingredients we would need for our Wit-Sharpening Potion. Neville and I already had them out.

Ten minutes later as we worked, I heard Hermione say, "There's something funny, though. How could Rita Skeeter have known...?"

"Known what?" Ron said quickly. "You _haven't_ been mixing up Love Potions, have you?"

"I think he would be the first to know," I muttered to Neville. He chuckled.

"Don't be stupid," Hermione snapped. "No, it's just...how did she know Viktor asked me to visit him over the summer?"

A loud clunk made me look up from my job on squeezing my beetles.

"What?" Ron looked horrified. Hermione was blushing madly, avoiding his eyes.

"He asked me right after he'd pulled me out of the lake," she muttered. "After he'd got rid of his shark's head. Madam Pomfrey gave us both blankets and then he sort of pulled me away from the judges so they wouldn't hear, and he said, if I wasn't doing anything over the summer, would I like to -"

"And what did you say?" Ron said, who had picked up his pestle and was grinding it on the desk, a good six inches from his bowl, because he was looking at Hermione.

"And he _did_ say he'd never felt the same way about anyone else," Hermione went on. I could almost see the smoke coming from her body. She was so red of embarrassment. "but how could Rita Skeeter have heard him? She wasn't there...or was she? Maybe she _has_ got an Invisibility Cloak; maybe she sneaked onto the grounds to watch the seconds task..."

"And what did you say?" Ron repeated, pounding his pestle down so hard that it dented the desk. I shook my head at him, but my gaze flickered up and I saw Professor Snape coming to our desk behind them. I started moving my head at them quickly. I nudged Neville and discreetly pointed behind them. We both started making signs willing them to shut up. Only Harry saw them but when he was going to turn around, it was already late.

"Well, I was too busy seeing whether you and Harry were okay to-"

"Fascinating though your social life undoubtedly is, Miss Granger," said Snape in an icy voice, making the three of them jump. Neville trembled by my side. "I must ask you not to discuss it in my class. Ten points from Gryffindor."

The whole class was looking over at our table. Neville flushed at the attention.

"Ah...reading magazines under the table as well?" Snape added, snatching up the copy of _Witch Weekly_. "A further ten points from Gryffindor...oh but of course..." Snape's black eyes flittered as they fell on Rita Skeeter's article. "Potter has to keep up with his press cuttings..."

The Slytherins laughed and, with an unpleasant smile, Snape began to read the article aloud.

" _'Harry Potter's Secret Heartache'_...dear, dear, Potter, what's ailing you now? _'A boy like no other, perhaps...'_ "

Harry's face had turned a glowing fire color. Snape was pausing at the end of every sentence to allow the Slytherins a hearty laugh. The article sounded ten times worse when read by Snape. Even Hermione was blushing scarlet now. And with dread, I waited for him to reach the part where I appear.

" '_Although, it seems Mr. Potter does has another opportunity for his school sweetheart...' _" Snape paused. With a strange look I didn't understand, he surprisingly skipped that part.

" _'...Harry Potter's well-wishers must hope that, next time, he bestows his heart upon a worthier candidate.__'_ How very touching," Snape sneered, rolling up the magazine. "Well, I think I had better separate you all, so you can keep your minds on your potions rather than on your tangled love lives. Weasley, Longbottom, you both stay here. Miss Granger, over there, beside Miss Parkinson. Miss Barton, up here by Mr. Malfoy - " I groaned. "Potter - that table in front of my desk. Move. Now."

With a scowl, I packed everything on my bag and moved towards - _god forbid me_ - Malfoy.

"So, Barton," Malfoy said casually. _Too_ casually for my taste. "It seems you're not anyone's most precious thing."

"What do you mean?" I asked him half interested. I added the beetles into my cauldron.

"You know what I mean," he said with a faked sigh. "Weasley was what Potter would miss most," he scoffed, "even Granger is more cared by than you. Doesn't it hurt your pride a little? That you helped Scarhead and he just say thanks and nothing more?" My eyes widened. How did he knew that?!

I let out a long breath.

"I like to play by the rule," it was one of the things - beside that tiny crush on Harry - that Skeeter got right. "It would be my decision if I want to _help_ him or not."

"But, do you really know the game?" Malfoy asked. "If I were you - _Salazar forbid it_ - " I glanced sharply at him. "I likely would want to know where I am getting into. Everything could change drastically without us knowing that reality has already come to knock at your door."

He fell in silence and looked down at his cauldron, adding his beetles (now powder), making the water in there turn a pale gray.

"And has reality come to knock your door, Draco?" I asked him softly. I don't know why I called him by his name, but... what he said, it sounded so... honest? For the first time he was being politely straight to me. Probably for the first time for him.

Mal - _Draco_ - gave a rueful smile. It wasn't sardonic or didn't look like a smirk. In fact, I could almost describe it as a grimace.

"No."

He calmly added his already cut ginger roots to the cauldron.

"But its on the way."


	32. Uncle Snuffles is back

Next day was Hogsmeade visit. Quite doing as Sirius said, I grabbed six boxes of insta-food (I decided to call the emergency food boxes that my parents created like that) and shoved them in my bag.

Instead of a raging tornado meeting us, the sun blazed silvery-like in that morning. I thankfully didn't wear anything black, seeing as the air suddenly turned hot. Harry too, had brought up food he had sneaked from the lunch table on this morning.

We went into Gladrags Wizardwear as Harry wanted to buy a present for Dobby as a thank you gift. We had so much fun choosing ridiculous pair of socks that we knew the ex-house elf would likely love, including a pair patterned with flashing gold and silver stars, and another that screamed loudly when they became too smelly. Then, at half past one, we made our way up the High Street, past Dervish and Banges, and out toward the edge of the village.

I didn't exactly recognize the direction, but I had seen it before whilst just passing by. The winding lane was leading us out into the wild countryside around Hogsmeade. The cottages were fewer here, and their gardens larger; we were walking toward the foot of the mountain in whose shadow Hogsmeade lay. Then we turned a corner and saw a stile at the end of the lane. Waiting for us, its front paws on the topmost bar, was a very large, shaggy black dog, which was carrying some newspapers in its mouth and looking very familiar...

"Hello, Sirius," said Harry once we reached him. Although his face was set on a mask of total seriousness, I could tell by gazing at Harry's eyes that he was happy to see his Godfather.

I dropped to my knees an hugged the dog tightly to myself. Uncle Sirius whined in protest, but when I let go of him, he immediately noticed the scent of food coming from Harry's bag, and started wagging its tail eagerly. Then he turned and began to trot away from us across the scrubby patch of ground that rose to meet the rocky foot of the mountain. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I climbed over the stile and followed. Sirius led us to the very foot of the mountain, where the ground was covered with boulders and rocks. It was easy for him, with his four paws, but we were soon out of breath. We followed Sirius higher, up onto the mountain itself. For nearly half an hour we climbed a steep, winding, and stony path, following Sirius's wagging tail, with the sun glaring at our faces. At some point of the way, I had got ridden of my jacket and tied it to my waist.

Then, at last, Sirius slipped out of sight, and when we reached the place where he had vanished, we saw a narrow fissure in the rock. We squeezed into it and found ourselves in a cool, dimly lit cave. Tethered at the end of it, one end of his rope around a large rock, was Buckbeak the hippogriff. Half gray horse, half giant eagle, Buckbeak's fierce orange eye flashed at the sight of us. All four of us bowed low to him, and after regarding us imperiously for a moment, Buckbeak bent his scaly front knees and allowed Hermione to rush forward and stroke his feathery neck.

I looked over the place the black dog stood. Instead, my uncle was grinning widely at us, old Daily Prophets dangling from his mouth.

Sirius was wearing gray robes. New ones, in fact. His hair was longer, I bet it reached a little past his shoulders. The thick curly mass of dark hair was put on a low pony tail in the nape of his head, making him look like a real sophistical Pureblood wizard. Putting all of this aside, I wondered if he assaulted some house in his way here.

But the more I looked at him, I noticed that Sirius was more thinner than before. Even the robes couldn't hide that.

Uncle Sirius removed the papers from his mouth and threw them at the floor, extending his arms to either side of him. Not wanting to deny the invitation, I jumped right into his open arms, hugging his middle tightly. As I inhaled deeply, I quickly noticed a faint sweet smell coming from him... a very familiar one...

I let go of him and returned to Ron's side.

Harry pulled open his bag and handed over the bundle of chicken legs and bread.

"Ooh, chicken!" Sirius exclaimed like a happy little boy once he looked inside. He grabbed a drumstick, sitting down on the cave floor, and tearing off a large chunk with his teeth. He let out a muffled 'thanks' as he ravished the third chicken leg.

"I've started to live off rats mostly," he explained. "Can't steal too much food from Hogsmeade; I'd draw attention to myself."

Sirius grinned up at Harry, but the green eyed boy did not return the action.

"What're you doing here, Sirius?" Harry asked curtly.

"Not that we aren't happy to see you," I said quickly, throwing a short glare to Harry whom just looked away. "But we don't want you behind Azkaban's cells."

"Fulfilling my duty as a family man," Sirius said, gnawing on the chicken bone in a very doglike way. I raised an eyebrow, fighting off a smile. "Don't worry about it, I'm pretending to be a lovable stray."

He grinned up at Harry, but he didn't even crack a smile. So, he added in a more serious tone,

"I want to be on the spot. Your last letter...well, let's just say things are getting fishier. I've been stealing paper every time someone throws one out, and by the looks of things, I'm not the only one who'd getting worried."

He nodded at the yellowing _Daily Prophets_ on the cave floor, and Ron picked them up and unfolded them. Curiously, I leaned over his shoulder. The first bore the headline _Mystery Illness of Bartemius Crouch,_ the second, _Ministry Witch Still Missing - Minister of Magic Now Personally Involved._ Some lines stood out: _hasn't been seen in public since November...house appears deserted... 's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries decline comment...Ministry refuses to confirm rumors of critical illness..._

"What if they catch you? What if you're seen?"

"You four and Dumbledore are the only ones around here who know I'm an Animagus," Sirius said, shrugging, and continuing to devour the chicken leg. I guiltily looked away. That wasn't true. Neville and James knew too. But I trust them with the secret.

Ron went over to nudge Harry and gave him the Daily Prophets.

"They're making it sound like he's dying," Harry said slowly after he read. "But he can't be that ill if he managed to get up here..."

"My brother is Crouch's personal assistant," Ron said to Sirius. "He say's that Crouch is suffering from overwork."

"He did look ill the last time I saw him up close," Harry said, reading the story. "The night my name came out of the goblet."

"Getting his comeuppance for sacking Winky, isn't he?" Hermione said, an edge to her voice. She was stroking Buckbeak, who was crunching up Sirius's chicken bones. "I bet he wishes he hadn't done it now - bet he feels the difference now she's not there to look after him.

I rolled my eyes at her. She couldn't mention S.P.E.W just once, right?

"Hermione's obsessed with house-elves," Ron muttered to Sirius, casting Hermione a dark look. Sirius, however, looked interested.

"Crouch sacked his house-elf?"

"Right," Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I said together.

"But Crouch didn't turn up for the match?"

"No," Harry said. "I think he said he'd been too busy."

Sirius paced all around the cave in silence. Then he said, "Harry, did you check your pockets for your wand after you'd left the Top Box?"

"Erm..." Harry looked to think rather hard. "No," he said finally. "I didn't need to use it before we got in the forest. And then I put my hand in my pocket, and all that was in there were my Omnioculars." He stared at Sirius. "Are you saying whoever conjured the Mark stole my wand in the Top Box?"

"What didn't I think of that?!" I growled to myself. It was too obvious!

"Winky didn't steal that wand!" Hermione insisted.

"But, she wasn't the only one there," I said. Sirius nodded.

"Who else was sitting behind you?"

"Loads of people," Harry said. "Some Bulgarian ministers...Cornelius Fudge...the Malfoys..."

"The Malfoys!" Ron said suddenly, so loudly that his voice echoed all around the cave, and Buckbeak started nervously. "I bet it was Lucius Malfoy!"

"Anyone else?" Sirius asked, ignoring Ron.

"No one," said Harry.

"Yes, there was, there was Ludo Bagman," Hermione reminded him.

"Oh yeah..."

"I don't know anything about Bagman except that he used to play Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps," Sirius said, still pacing up and down. "What's he like?"

"Overly excited and happily annoying," I muttered to my uncle. He snickered.

"He's okay," Harry said, eyeing the to of us. "He keeps offering to help me in the Tournament."

"Does he, now?" said Sirius, frowning more deeply. "I wonder why he'd do that?"

"Says he's taken a liking to me," said Harry.

"Hmm," said Sirius, looking thoughtful.

"We saw him in the forest just before the Dark Mark appeared," Hermione told Sirius. "Remember?" she said to Harry and Ron. The memory of that day came to me. The blond man... what happened with him?

"Yeah, but he didn't stay in the forest, did he?" Ron said. "The moment we told him about the riot, he went off to the campsite."

"How d'you know?" Hermione shot back. "How d'you know where he Disapparated to?"

"Come off it," Ron said incredulously. "Are you saying you reckon Ludo Bagman conjured the Dark Mark?"

"It's more likely he did it than Winky," Hermione said stubbornly.

"Told you," Ron said, looking meaningfully at Sirius, "told you she's obsessed with house -"

But Sirius held up a hand to silence Ron.

"When the Dark Mark had been conjured, and the elf had been discovered holding Harry's wand, what did Crouch do?"

"Went to look in the bushes," Harry said, "but there wasn't anyone else there."

"Of course," Sirius muttered, pacing up and down, "of course, he'd want to pin it on anyone but his own elf...and then he sacked her?"

"Yes," Hermione said in a heated voice, "he sacked her, just because she hadn't stayed in her tent and let herself get trampled -"

"Hermione, will you give it a rest with the elf!" Ron said.

Sirius shook his head and said, "She's got the measure of Crouch better than you have, Ron. If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

He ran a hand over his unshaven face, evidently thinking hard.

"All these absences of Barty Crouch's...he goes to the trouble of making sure his house-elf saves him a seat at the Quidditch World Cup, but doesn't bother to turn up and watch. He works very hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, and then stops coming to that too...It's not like Crouch. If he's ever taken a day off work because of illness before this, I'll eat Buckbeak."

"How do you know Crouch?" I asked him.

A dark shadow passed over Sirius' face. I had learned to not be afraid but to respect my fears; but, if hadn't learned that, I assure you I would be be peeing my pants now. The last time I had seen Sirius like this before was the night we all still thought he was a murderer.

"Oh," he said in an airily tone. "he was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban - without a trial."

My eye twitched

_"What?"_ Ron and Hermione said together.

"You're kidding!" Harry said.

"Are you serious?" I growled.

"Yes, I am Sirius," I had to blink. Did he meant about the situation or his name? He took another great bite of chicken. "Crouch used to be Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, didn't you know?"

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I shook our heads.

"He was tipped for the next Minister of Magic," Sirius said. "He's a great wizard, Barty Crouch, powerfully magical - and power-hungry. Oh never a Voldemort supporter," he said, reading the looks on my and Harry's faces. "No, Barty Crouch was always very outspoken against the Dark Side. But then a lot of people who were against the Dark Side...well, you wouldn't understand...you're too young..."

"That's what my dad said at the World Cup," Ron said, with a trace of irritation in his voice. "Try us, why don't you?"

A grin flashed across Sirius' thin face.

"All right, I'll try you..." He walked once up the cave, back again, and then said, "Imagine that Voldemort's powerful now. You don't know who his supporters are, you don't know who's working for him and who isn't; you know he can control people so that they do terrible things without being able to stop themselves. You're scared for yourself, and your family, and your friends. Every week, news come of more deaths, more disappearances, more torturing...the Ministry of Magic's in disarray, they don't know what to do, they're trying to keep everything hidden from the Muggles, but meanwhile, Muggles are dying too. Terror everywhere...panic...confusion...that's how it used to be."

"Well, times like that bring out the best in some people and the worst in others. Crouch's principles might've been good in the beginning - I wouldn't know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort's supporters. The Aurors were given new powers - powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn't the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without trail. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side. He had his supporters, mind you - plenty of people thought he was going about things the right way, and there were a lot of witches and wizards clamoring for him to take over as Minister of Magic. When Voldemort disappeared, it looked like only a matter of time until Crouch got the top job. But then something rather unfortunate happened..." Sirius smiled grimly. "Crouch's own son was caught with a group of Death Eaters who'd managed to talk their way out of Azkaban. Apparently they were trying to find Voldemort and return him to power."

"Crouch's _son_ was caught?" Hermione gasped.

"Yep," Sirius said, throwing his chicken bone to Buckbeak, flinging himself back down on the ground beside the loaves of bread, and tearing one in half. "Nasty little shock for old Barty, I'd imagine. Should have spent a bit more time at home with his family, shouldn't he? Ought to have left the office early once in a while...gotten to know his own son."

He began to wolf down large pieces of bread.

_"Was_ his son a Death Eater?" Harry asked.

"No idea," Sirius said, still stuffing down bread. "I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I've found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I'd bet my life were Death Eaters - but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf."

"Did Crouch try and get his son off?" Hermione whispered.

Sirius let out a laugh that was much more like a bark.

"Crouch let his son off? I thought you had the measure of him, Hermione! Anything that threatened to tarnish his reputation had to go; he had dedicated his whole life to becoming Minister of Magic. You saw him dismiss a devoted house-elf because she associated him with the Dark Mark again - doesn't that tell you what he's like? Crouch's fatherly affection stretched just far enough to give his son a trial, and by all accounts, it wasn't much more than an excuse for Crouch to show how much he hated the boy...then he sent him straight to Azkaban."

"He gave his own son to the dementors?" Harry said quietly.

"How could he?" I whispered harshly. To gave his own son... blood of his blood... with the knowledge he wasn't going to see him again... And besides that, it suited perfectly Crouch's personality.

"That's right," Sirius said, and he didn't look remotely amused now. "I saw the dementors bringing him in, watched them through the bars in my cell door. He can't have been more than nineteen. They took him into a cell near mine. He was screaming for his mother by nightfall. He went quiet after a few days, though...they all went quiet in the end...except when they shrieked in their sleep..."

For a moment, the deadened look in Sirius's eyes became more pronounced than ever, as though shutters had closed behind them.

"So is he still in Azkaban?" I asked.

"No," Sirius said dully. "No, he's not in there anymore. He died about a year after they brought him in."

"He _died_?"

"He wasn't the only one," Sirius said bitterly. "Most go mad in there, and plenty stop eating in the end. They lose the will to live. You could always tell when a death was coming, because the dementors could sense it, they got excited. That boy looked pretty sickly when he arrived. Crouch being an important Ministry member, he and his wife were allowed a deathbed visit. That was the last time I saw Barty Crouch, half carrying his wife past my cell. She died herself, apparently, shortly afterward. Grief. Wasted away just like the boy. Crouch never came for his son's body. The dementors buried him outside the fortress; I watched them do it."

Sirius threw aside the bread he had just lifted to his mouth and instead picked up one of the flasks of pumpkin juice and drained it.

"So old Crouch lost it all, just when he thought he had it made," he continued, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "one moment, a hero, poised to become Minister of Magic...next, his son dead, his wife dead, the family name dishonored, and, so I've heard since I escaped, a big drop in popularity. Once the boy had died, people started feeling a bit more sympathetic toward the son and started asking how a nice young lad from a good family had gone so badly astray. The conclusion was that his father never cared much for him. So Cornelius Fudge got the top job, and Crouch was shunted sideways into the Department of International Magical Cooperation."

Long silence.

"Moody says Crouch is obsessed with catching Dark wizards," Harry told Sirius.

"Yeah, I've heard it's become a bit of a mania with him," Sirius said, nodding. "If you ask me, he still thinks he can bring back the old popularity by catching one more Death Eater."

"And he sneaked up here to search Snape's office!" Ron said triumphantly, looking at Hermione.

"Yes, and that doesn't make sense at all," Sirius said.

"Yeah, it does!" Ron said excitedly, but Sirius shook his head.

"Listen, if Crouch wants to investigate Snape, why hasn't he been coming to judge the tournament? It would be an ideal excuse to make regular visits to Hogwarts and keep an eye on him."

"So you think Snape could be up to something, then?" Harry asked, but Hermione broke in.

"Look, I don't care what you say, Dumbledore trusts Snape -"

"Oh give it a rest, Hermione," Ron said impatiently. "I know Dumbledore's brilliant and everything, but that doesn't mean a really clever Dark wizard couldn't fool him -"

"Then why did he try to save Harry in first year? Why not let him die?"

"I dunno- maybe he thought Dumbledore would kick him out -"

"What do you think then, Sirius?" I said loudly, rolling my eyes at the banter.

"I think they've both got a point," Sirius said, looking thoughtfully at Ron and Hermione. "Ever since I found out Snape was teaching here, I've wondered why Dumbledore hired him. Snape's always been fascinated by the Dark Arts, he was famous for it at school. Slimy, oily, greasy-haired kid, he was," I rolled my eyes. "Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year, and he was part of a gang of Slytherins who nearly all turned out to be Death Eaters."

Sirius held up his fingers and began ticking off names.

"Rosier and Wilkes - they were both killed by Aurors the year before Voldemort fell. The Lestranges - they're a married couple - they're in Azkaban. Avery - from what I've heard he wormed his way out of trouble by saying he'd been acting under the Imperius Curse - he's still at large. But as far as I know, Snape was never even accused of being a Death Eater - not that that means much. Plenty of them were never caught. And Snape's certainly clever and cunning enough to keep himself out of trouble."

"Snape knows Karkaroff pretty well, but he wants to keep that quiet," Ron said.

"Yeah, you should have seen Snape's face when Karkaroff turned up in Potions yesterday," Harry said quickly. "Karkaroff wanted to talk to Snape, he said that Snape's been avoiding him. Karkaroff looked really worried about something. He showed Snape something on his arm, but I couldn't see what it was."

"He showed Snape something on his arm?" Sirius asked, looking frankly bewildered. He ran his fingers distractedly through his filthy hair, then shrugged again. "Well, I've no idea what that's about...but if Karkaroff's genuinely worried, and he's going to Snape for answers..."

Sirius stared at the cave wall, then made a grimace of frustration.

"There's still the fact that Dumbledore trusts Snape, and I know Dumbledore trusts where a lot of other people wouldn't, but I just can't see him letting Snape teach at Hogwarts if he'd ever worked for Voldemort."

"Why are Moody and Crouch so keen to get into Snape's office, then?" Ron said stubbornly.

"Well," Sirius said slowly, "I wouldn't put it past Mad-Eye to have searched every single teacher's office when he got to Hogwarts. He takes his Defense Against the Dark Arts seriously, Moody. I'm not sure _he_ trusts anyone at all, and after the things he's seen, it's not surprising. I'll say this for Moody, though, he never killed if he could help it. Always brought people in alive where possible. He was tough, but he never descended to the level of the Death Eaters. Crouch, though...he's a different matter...is he really ill? If he is, why did he make the effort to drag himself up to Snape's office? And if he's not...what's he up to? What was he doing at the World Cup that was so important he didn't turn up in the Top Box? What's he been doing while he should have been judging the tournament?"

Sirius lapsed into silence, still staring at the cave wall. Buckbeak was ferreting around on the rocky floor, looking for bones he might have overlooked. Finally, Sirius looked up at Ron.

"You say your brother's Crouch's personal assistant? Any chance you could ask him if he's seen Crouch lately?"

"I can try," Ron said doubtfully. "Better not make it sound like I reckon Crouch is up to anything dodgy, though. Percy loves Crouch."

"And you might try and find out whether they've got any leads on Bertha Jorkins while you're at it," Sirius said, gesturing to the second copy of the _Daily Prophet_.

I saluted at him. "Already on it."

"Bagman told me they hadn't," Harry said. I pouted.

"Yeah, he's quoted in the article," Sirius said, nodding to the paper. "Blustering on about how bad Bertha's memory is. Well, maybe she's changed since I knew her, but the Bertha I knew wasn't forgetful at all- she was the opposite actually. She was a bit dim, but she had an excellent memory for gossip. It used to get her into trouble a lot; she never knew when to keep her mouth shut. I can see her being a bit of a liability to the Ministry. Maybe that's why Bagman took so long to start looking for her..."

Sirius gave a huge sigh and rubbed his shadowed eyes.

"What's the time?" he asked.

I looked at my wrist watch.

"It's half past three," I said.

"You'd better get back to school," Sirius said, getting to his feet. "Now listen . . ." He looked particularly hard at Harry. "I don't want you lot sneaking out of school to see me, all right? Just send notes to me here. I still want to hear about anything odd. But you're not to go leaving Hogwarts without permission; it would be an ideal opportunity for someone to attack you."

"No one's tried to attack me so far, except a dragon and a couple of grindylows," Harry said, but Sirius and I scowled at him. Like if _those_ weren't enough!

"I don't care... I'll breathe freely again when this tournament's over, and that's not until June. And don't forget, if you're talking about me among yourselves, call me Snuffles, okay?" He handed Harry the empty napkin and flask and went to pat Buckbeak good-bye. "I'll walk to the edge of the village with you, see if I can scrounge another paper."

Before we left, I gave him the insta-food boxes. It wasn't necessary to explain them to him, as the moment he saw them, Sirius' eyes shone with a glint I had never had seen before.

"What's this I had heard?" He said quietly as he hid the boxes on his robes. The must be enchanted for have the ability to keep the boxes. "Is it true that my lovely niece has this tiny little bit of a crush with a certain 'Mr. Potter'?"

I scowled, but before I could say something, he transformed into the black dog again and left the cave. We walked back down the mountainside with him, across the boulder-strewn ground, and back to the stile. Here he allowed each of us to pat him on the head, before turning and setting off at a run around the outskirts of the village. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I made our way back into Hogsmeade and up toward Hogwarts.

"Wonder if Percy knows all that stuff about Crouch?" Ron said as we walked up the drive to the castle. "But maybe he doesn't care...it'd probably just make him admire Crouch even more. Yeah, Percy loves rules. he'd just say Crouch was refusing to break them for his own son."

"Percy would never throw any of his family to the dementors," Hermione said severely.

"I don't know," Ron said. "If he thought we were standing in the way of his career...Percy's really ambitious, you know..."

We walked up the stone steps into the entrance hall, where the delicious smells of dinner wafted toward us from the Great Hall.

"Poor old Snuffles," Ron said, breathing deeply. "He must really like you, Harry... Imagine having to live off rats."


	33. Mail Gifts -Unfortunately-

A normal Monday, in breakfast time, I found myself sitting with Neville and James. Fortunately today, was the day I had free chocolate from the elves. I shared with the boys, and James had almost ravished his portion. He had an uncanny addiction with chocolate, just as similar as mine. He said his uncle transmitted this addiction to him.

Either way, we were just talking about odd things like, What was going to happen on the third task? Would we help Harry once again? Why's Snape's hair so _greasy_? Does he particularly like to be a git? Is there a beyond or inner eye, for that matter? Why does Neville finds peace in hitting us with a spoon?

Wondering these life questionings, the sound of flying owls reached my ears. Must be post owl time.

To my surprise, a gray owl flew over my head and threw six letter on my plate. Following closely behind, four barn owls, a brown owl, and a tawny one did the same. They continued soaring until they arrived to Hermione's plate, knocking her breakfast over.

"What are they?"

"I think its obvious they are letters, Neville," James said. Neville deadpanned at him, but James was looking through my bunch of letters. They were a lot!

"The thing here would be, from _who_ they are," I said. "I mean - I receive almost nothing every month."

James and Neville grabbed both a letter and began to read. I never though it was possible to reach a new color of embarrassment, but Nev here, made the world wide record. James, in the other hand, scowled darkly and took another one. The more he read, the more darker his expression became. It was mutinous. If looks could kill...

Bewildered at their reactions, I took one of the lot. It was written with cut letters from the Daily Prophet. It somehow reminded me of a Muggle horror movie where the protagonist's getting stalked.

_Return to where you come from, freak girl! Harry Potter deserves better than you or Muggle Granger. Someone great as the boy-who-lived would never like you!_

I knew I didn't deserve Harry, or that Harry would like me ever for that matter. But this was just plain cruel. The three of us continued reading letters. Some were bashing me, others surprisingly offered their condolences for my cold personality, taking pity on my persona. Embarrassingly they were some letter _suggesting_ my 'services' (that one Neville read). What most annoyed me was though, that I received offers from St. Mungos from specialized Psychologists on wizard children. We were at the seventh letter at it.

Then we began at the most curious ones.

It were three yellow thick envelopes made of parchment. None of them had written who send it. But instead, they wore seals, of different types and colors. The first one was a dark amber one, the letter 'V' on the middle, with three stars on the right side. The second one was a light green with the form of a water drop with two circles in the lower part. And the third one was crimson with a small sword and a rose, the two of them crossed forming an X.

Intrigued, I opened the first one. It was a more formal letter, written in a handwriting more impeccable than I had ever seen.

_To Anya Corrine Sage di Nyx Barton - Black,  
__Pureblood heiress of the honorable "Night Sky" British Wiccan Coven._

_The Veritas Coven wish to send their regards to the new Matriarch  
__and offer their deepest apologies for not knowing of your existence until recently._

_We would like to offer, as we always had done centuries ago, to renew our deal of uniting  
__our families in a chain bond._

_Hoping to get your answer soon, we wish you a peaceful stay on Hogwarts._

_May the stars guide you into the future._

_Eris Henrietta Sein Carver,  
Unspeakable Auror of the American Ministry of Magic,  
New York City's Underworld Chief of Security,  
Matriarch and Sorceress of the Veritas Coven. _

More interested than before, I opened the second one. It began the same way as the first. I was completely stunned to discover that I, apparently, have a large name.

_The Lotus Coven has seen what the future of your world may come now._

_Against all the rules our Ancestors had put over the years, we had made the decision of,  
once again, become your eyes and ears as the horrible dark times approach._

_As a medium for our trust, we have a warning to tell._

_"The beginning of the end will arise once the loyal boy falls.  
Beware of the daughter of the Night once the dark memory of a long forgotten past remerges from the depths of time.__  
As for the Chosen One, a decision is going to be made,  
no one knows what the outcome will be,  
only him will know what the choice is as the end is near."_

_Let the tears of the unknown be your solace in desperate times._

_Damiem Orleans de Gramont,  
Supreme Counselor of the American Ministry of Magic,  
Leader of the Lotus Coven._

Now, almost mentally unstable and more curious than ever, I opened the last of the letters. The same way of greeting was written as the first two.

_As we already discovered your 'miraculous resurrection' ,  
the Crimson Spade Coven declares war against the Night Sky Coven._

_Our differences had always reached some peaking point and,  
with your appearance, this changes everything to an outrageous deceit._

_Next time our families met, we aren't going to be merciful or forgiving._

_Lord Lionel Russell Cross,  
General of the Order of the Scarlet Dragon,  
Patriarch of the Crimson Spade Coven.  
_

Okay, that last one certainly didn't help to improve my mood.

"What does these mean?" I asked myself, holding the three letters. It didn't have nothing to do with Skeeter's article.

James and Neville took them and silently began to read. Like me, they firstly looked confused and with the last letter, Neville gaped openly. However, James looked - I actually couldn't pinpoint what his expression was. I can't describe it as blank but, more as surprised mixed between horror and amusement. And behind all that, I saw something more.

_Recognition_.

"I think you should send these to your guardian," he said, confirming my thoughts when he profusely tried to avoid my eyes.

I continued to stare at him, hoping to catch his gaze. I absently grabbed the next envelope, ready to open it. James - finally - looked over at me, his eyes widening.

"No, don't open that - !"

Too late. The sensation of burning was the first thing my mind could think of, but the pain was unbearable enough for me to squeak like a little girl. Blinking through tears, I saw yellowish-green liquid smelling strongly of petrol pouring out , gushing over my hands, which began to erupt in large yellow boils. Never on my life had I seen such a cruel prank, not even made by the Weasley twins.

"Undiluted bubotuber pus, just as I suspected," James said grimly, picking what it was left of the parchment paper with the fork. Fortunately, all the resting letter were all stained by said thing, making it more easier to get rid of them.

I whimpered slightly. _At least it doesn't hurt like the belt's hits on my wrists_, I thought darkly, remembering full well of Mrs. Darcy's punishment on St. Louise's.

"We need to get you to the Hospital Wing," Neville gasped beside me, gently grabbing one of my wrists. I wondered how much time was he there. Wasn't he across from my seat?

Searching across from us, James slapped Neville's hand away from me.

"Don't touch her!" he snapped. "This thing is contagious. We don't need you in the same situation."

I closed my eyes, pulling my hands on my chest. Tears were still running down my cheeks, with me trying to will myself to stop them. It was in vain, as they seemed to gingerly want to pour out of my body system.

To everyone's confusion, and annoying the teachers, James stood up and crossed ungracefully above the table to our side.

"Come on," he carefully grabbed my shoulders, pulling me to his side trying to unsuccessfully hide me away from the rapt attention of the students. My hands were laying between our bodies, with me cradling them gently.

"I'll go."

"No, next is Herbology," I choked out. It was the only class were Neville didn't shy away from everyone. The only thing that made the real _him_ rarely got out. I didn't want him to stop just because of me. "Don't want you to skip that class."

"But - "

"You can met me once the class ends," I told him firmly, or what firmly the pain let me be. "I'll still be on the infirmary. Don't worry, James can accompany me there."

For a moment, I thought I glimpsed a flick of hurt on Neville's eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Very well."

We quickly left the Great Hall. But as we passed by the Slytherin's table, I saw Malfoy and Parkinson looking very smugly over at us.

Last thing I saw before we rounded the door was a pair of emerald-green worried eyes following our figures.

Or maybe it was just a wishful thinking.

* * *

Hermione too, received the same letter with the petrol-smelling thing an ended the same as me. Madam Pomfrey was very annoyed at our situation, muttering things like 'that Skeeter woman!' or 'such stupid prats for believing that stuff!'.

I never mentioned that Malfoy and Parkinson were the culprits of that letter for me.

We both continued to receive hate mail during the next week. My curiosity always won and I tried to read each of them. But James was having none of it, and before I could made a grab of one, he burned them all on his plate with the "_Incendio_" spell.

There were ones that couldn't be stopped like howlers shouting insults over at me in the Great Hall. None of the words affected me though, as I was already used to them on St. Louise's, but that didn't made me to stop myself blushing madly when students and the teachers looked at me with pity.

I am ashamed to say that later, one of the Howlers suggesting to end my life had reduced me down to tears, as it brought painful sad memories for me.

In times when I was rarely alone, Harry suddenly appears wherever I am. Doesn't matter if it was the library, the Black Lake, or some times the Owlery. He was always there, trying to cheer me up. He fails, but then unnecessarily, he gets himself into an embarrassing scene and I end laughing.

I didn't notice at the time, but I was getting used to have him on my side again. I was beginning to grow comfortable around him. The feelings I have been hiding from him were ignored by both parties, but that didn't meant I couldn't enjoy while it lasted.

As time passed, Hermione became annoyed with how Rita Skeeter heard all the conversations around here and had started to investigate many ways of eavesdropping on Hogwarts. Interested by how Skeeter had done it, I started to help Hermione investigating. We immediately wrote off any kind of Technology, seeing as they don't work if they don't have a very strong charm made by the Headmaster. Before Easter Holidays, our workload had suddenly increased that there wasn't time for me to get out of the library. I didn't understand a lot of things but somehow, James did and he started to tutor me on Transfiguration and History of Magic, whilst Neville, as always, helped me with Herbology. I had the strange feeling we were taking our O.W.L's this year instead of the fifth.

Like James suggested, I sent those three letters to Natasha, demanding to know what they meant. She didn't disappoint on her answer.

_Dear Annie,_

_As we already had discussed before, we are descendants of American Wizards, or as people refer to us, Wiccan. The Wiccan families all belong to certain Covens, which in where any wizard related or not by blood, can form a mana _(magical energy)_ bond and they become one of us. These three Covens that had written to you, are the most well known on England. Before your grandmother and your father died, they had a deal with Veritas, Lotus and the Crimson Spade Covens. "In case of perish, we will unite as one", that's what I remember. But Crimson Spade wasn't comfortable enough to do so, that's the reason they declared all of us as enemies. Let's just say the leader - Lionel - wasn't exactly happy with Alec's presence. Together, the three groups - including ours, the Night Sky - formed the Wiccan community. With the death of your father, the four Covens disbanded and I haven't heard of them again, until now. _

_Apparently, they read a very interesting article referring to Mr. Potter's love life in which you were talked about. As you're the next on the line and only descendant, you're immediately appointed as a leader of the Night Sky. Seeing as you still aren't off age, I'll be your representative on the reunions._

_Don't worry about the Crimson Spade, I'll manage that dispute._

_Hoping to hear of you soon,  
Nat._

* * *

We were on the end of Easter Holidays when I received two sad packages for me.

Hedwig had brought me up an Easter egg from Mrs. Weasley, but it was the size of a chicken egg, a little bigger though. Then I came to the conclusion that Mrs. Weasley read _Weekly Witch_, and believed what they said.

Second package was brought by Caleb, whom had just returned from his long deserved rest after that tornado time. The package was sent by Natasha with a note.

_This just came from St. Louise's. Apparently, it was forgotten on your room. I haven't opened it yet, I thought you would like to see it first._

I frowned. From St. Louise's? I am very aware that I hadn't forgot anything at all. Hermione had kept some things safe on her house and besides that, all was left were some clothes and some posters to pack.

I ripped the decorating paper off and found myself staring to an old white and smudged box, with ANYA written above the lid. It was one of those shoe boxes. Opening it, I found a notebook page with neat writing on it.

_Anya,_

_Perhaps you don't remember well, or maybe you do and you actually didn't expect this but, it was my time to clean Darcy's office and I found something that belongs to you. This box has a lot of things I can tell you don't remember about its existence, and I thought it would be proper to return it to the owner._

_I would like to say sorry for not doing anything for what they all did to you in your stay. I suppose you won't forgive me never, because I am just as guilty as all the lot._

_Still feeling sorry,_  
_Marie._

My eyes widened in surprise and I could feel my jaw hanging open slightly. Marie? She remembered me? Why did she sent this? Although she did write she felt guilty for my pain while being there. I actually hadn't thought much of St. Louise's since I began living with Nat, so I completely had forgot Marie. It made me feel guilty to know she still had me on her mind and sent me these things that Darcy had hid from me.

Looking through the box, the thing it caught my gaze was a silver blanket with a knitted golden rose on it. I slowly pulled it out and by its touch, I can say it was made of silk. Something fell onto the table. It was a large leather notebook. Puzzled by its existence, my hands trembled the moment I opened it.

It was a drawing book. To the backside of the cover, they were imprinted the letters A.B. on black crayon with an awful handwriting. The first page was on blank. When I turned on the page, I found myself staring to soul-piercing emerald-green eyes.

For a wild moment, I thought I was staring at the real Harry, then my mind snapped back to reality and remembered it was just a drawing. Then I noticed the differences. There was no fierce bravery on those eyes. Instead, a great caring a loving was noticeable than anything. But, I did found Harry's determination there.

Feeling like the word's dumbest person, I realized who was I looking at. Lily Potter's eyes.

Everything became a turmoil. Why hers? I haven't met or seem the woman, ever. How did I manage to draw something so good like this at such a young age? Maybe it had to do with my magic, but that didn't explain something.

I turned on the page again. I was seeing red. Red crayon was everywhere. My stomach hurled silently, until I found a pattern on the sheet. While everything was red, there was an almost unnoticeable orange on the middle, taking the form of a bird. A phoenix.

My curiosity won. Next page was a baby on a crib. Near on the floor, red hair was sprawled eerily around a slender body. In the corner, a small star rested away from the drawing itself.

Another page. A lone man stood over a crater. Another star on it.

Next page. The top of a church. The same church image that was on my Christmas card Neville sent me on third year. One more star.

The label with _Platform 9 3/4. _Another star.

The boats we rode in our first year, along with the Sorting Hat and a small lion on the middle of said thing.

The troll in the girl's bathrooms.

The mirror of Erised with my parents on it.

The Sorcerer's Stone.

The ceiling down in St. Louise's

The Burrow.

The Flying Ford Anglia.

The wall in Hogwarts with the words 'THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE', written on blood.

Moaning Myrtle standing on the girls abandoned bathroom staring at her own dead body. Hermione's petrified form.

The Slytherin's basilisk on the Chamber of Secrets.

A black shaggy dog, a stag, an ocelot, a werewolf and a rat. The rat had a long like snake doodle on one of the paws.

Dementors on the Quidditch Pitch.

The Shrieking Shack with a Full moon behind.

Dancing masks with the form of skulls.

The blond man I saw on the woods staring right back at me.

The coat of arms belonging to Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

A dragon with wide open wings, a golden egg on its feet.

The Yule Ball decoration.

The Black Lake with Merpeople swimming around.

The statue of death with the words Tom Riddle on it.

I snapped shut the notebook. My hands were trembling more badly than ever. A great headache was making an announcement on my head. My body was hyperventilating fully.

Apparently, my six year old self had predicted a lot of things for the future to this certain point. Except for the statue.

And they still were some more pages left.


	34. Drawings? Or Premonitions?

**I'm depressed. I almost finish this chapter and when I am saving it, there's no internet! That saddens me and lefts me depressed, my motivation goes away to who knows where.**

**Sorry if the chapter isn't good. I wasn't in the mood at all when I wrote it again.**

* * *

I glared at the notebook.

Billy the bunny was sitting on one side of the bed, its button eyes staring right at me without actually seeing.

After a long internal battle on my mind, I had finally decided to look through the rest of the drawings. _Alone._

As always, the girl's dormitories were abandoned until the end of the last feast of the day. Using that to my advantage, I spend my time here debating whether or not to see the entire notebook. Just in case, I had pulled down the curtains around my bed, making it seem I was asleep if Lavender, Parvati or Hermione arrived. I didn't worry about Fay, she doesn't care about what do we do with our time.

I looked down insecurely at the leather-bound notebook. What would I see now? It was obvious all the drawings were kind of visions of the future the moment I made them. Or did I really drew them? Because, as much as I remember loving to draw before I came to Hogwarts, I couldn't be _that_ good at all.

Puffing my cheeks in annoyance, I let out a very long breath of air. I nodded again to reassure myself of this.

"Here it goes nothing," I mumbled.

I opened the notebook and let it on the drawing with the statue of the death. I grabbed the corner of the page and closed my eyes tightly. It seemed it was a lifetime as I lifted slowly the page. I half-opened one eye and peered down at the next drawing.

I gaped.

It was Mr. Crouch.

And he looked more madder than I ever believe to have seen before.

There wasn't a star on the corner. _Yet._

* * *

I ran as fast as I could. I almost slipped down a few times in the stairs, but I didn't care.

I needed to tell someone. Someone whom I could trust, someone who will believe me, even if this seemed crazy. Hell, I still couldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own hazel eyes. Which, I forgot to mention, started to burn slightly. The pain wasn't sufferable like the other last times. Reaching a window, I stopped, paralyzed to what I just was seeing.

My eyes. They weren't my eyes. There was no trace of hazel at all. Instead, a deep icy blue met my own desperate eyes as I tried to search for something, _anything_ to tell me I was having a dream. I closed my eyes tightly again this night. I just hoped this was only a very rather _disturbing_ dream. Opening my eyes, I looked again to the window.

I gasped. There it was again. The old scrawny familiar girl with the hazel eyes, not the disturbing and mischievous blue ones. Pondering what just had happened, I remembered the main reason _why_ was I in such a hurry and resumed my jogging, forgetting this strange moment at all.

I was almost near the corridor where I was going to, when I suddenly rounded the corner and found myself faced with black.

Stepping back in surprise, I unceremoniously dropped on my butt, the notebook falling from my grip.

The black robe kneeled in front of it and grabbed it, pulling himself upright and gazing with a skeptical eye the obvious first drawings.

Paling, I awkwardly scrambled to my feet, trying to not trip over my robes in the process.

"Miss Barton," his drawling voice made me look directly to those black void eyes, whom to my shock, were almost shining in amusement. "Is there a reason for you to be running in these halls, and missing the feast?"

I mouthed wordlessly. Professor Snape was waiting patiently for an answer as I made myself look pathetic, representing what he thinks of Gryffindors.

Closing my mouth, I sighed deeply.

"I was going to the Headmaster's office," I said calmly.

Snape raised an eyebrow.

"Why so?"

I wished he would stop inquiring. Looking again once more, my right foot started to move in that of tapping. How do I explain this without looking like a raving lunatic? Before I'll knew it, the papers are going to call me "Freaky Anne" like in St. Louise's.

"It's really important," I found myself saying. I winced. I could slap myself right there, or better yet, I should let Snape slap me by how lame _that_ sounded.

Both of his eyebrows rose up to his hairline, clearly thinking the same. Not that I blame him, mind you.

"The Headmaster has more important matters to ponder on, than what a student has to say," he said.

I huffed, puffing my cheeks as I glared.

"But what if said student has information involving one of the judges in the Triwizard tournament?" I said, looking directly at him.

Snape scowled. He looked down at the notebook and started flickering through the pages. He stared at the few of first year to third year. His expression grew dark when he reached one with him pointing his wand at Uncle Sirius and Professor Lupin.

"And what does these drawings of your personal life have to - "

He stopped dead on one page. The Professor instantly lost all the color it was left on his face. Frowning, I raised a little on my tiptoes and tried to look at the drawing. It was placed after the drawing of the Black Lake. It was a pale arm showing a tattoo. The doodle was of a snake intervened as the form of an eight, and at the top, the snake was holding a skull with its jaw.

Huh. I don't remember seeing that one.

Rather abruptly, Snape shut close the notebook and glared at the cover as if he was guilty of murder. Perhaps he was, seeing as Mr. Crouch's image wasn't very comforting at all.

"Follow me," he snapped, and abruptly, turned around, his dark cloak bellowing dramatically behind him.

Bewildered, I jogged up to caught up to his quick stride. To me, Snape seemed to be floating like a ghost. _Or maybe a vampire... Or a big exuberant bat..._

Five minutes later we were hurtling toward a stone gargoyle standing halfway along an empty corridor. It seemed like an eternity that I had seen this before. When Ginny and I were rescued from Tom Riddle, we had come to Mr. Dumbledore's office to 'explain' what really happened. And now - again - I came to explain this new strange success. I wondered if someday I would come to just take a cup of tea with the Headmaster.

"Choco Sparks," muttered Professor Snape in an annoyed tone. The Gargoyle stone moved aside and, eagerly, Snape began to ascend the circular stairs. Following, I quickly found myself facing double oak doors. Without even bothering to knock, Snape opened both doors in a very dramatically way, leaving me once again to follow. The man should have been on Broadway.

There, sitting comfortably on his desk, Albus Dumbledore raises his head, stopping reading once he noticed we were in front of his larger desk.

"Oh, hello Severus," he greeted cheerfully, then his gaze flickered towards me. "And Miss Barton. Why do I have the honor of your visit?"

Without even talking, Professor Snape rudely slammed the notebook on the desk, making the portraits of certain Headmasters look over at us curiously. I blushed from the attention we were receiving.

Not even disturbed by Snape, Mr. Dumbledore calmly opened the notebook and began flickering through the pages. He too, reached the same drawing with the arm with a tattoo, and then looked up at me. I almost took a step back. His expression was rarely somber, and - what's that restrained anger I perceive? - no, it was more like shock.

"Please, leave us alone," Dumbledore waved a hand to the doors. Snape didn't even seem offended at all. With a last swept of his robes, he left us alone.

The silence was unbearable. Never on my life I thought I would find myself in this situation with the man who changed my life three years ago. I glanced curiously around Mr. Dumbledore's office. I looked up at the walls behind his desk. The patched and ragged Sorting Hat was standing on a shelf. A glass case next to it held a magnificent silver sword with large rubies set into the hilt, which I recognized to be the Gryffindor Sword Harry had pulled out from the Sorting Hat in our second year.

"Anya," I snapped my head towards the high chair. Mr. Dumbledore was looking at me blankly, not even his blue eyes sparkled like they always did. I could tell there was a swirling of emotions behind those half-moon spectacles of his, making my stomach drop.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" His voice was soothing, but my nerves were at high stake.

I gulped. "Yes, Sir."

Oh my, I called him 'sir'. This is worse than I thought.

"May I?" I motioned to the notebook. The Professor nodded grimly, and I grabbed the notebook.

Passing page through page became a little annoying. Mostly because of the silence, the flickering could be heard from a mile.

I finally reached that last page, and I put it down in the desk, the image that perturbed me facing the Headmaster directly.

The man just looked down at it.

"All the pictures," I started to say. "They're certain moments of my life. I drew them when I was on the Orphanage at the age of seven. I thought the notebook was enchanted, no one can draw this good at that age." I sighed. "All of the pictures have a small star on the corner of the page. This one doesn't."

"I see," Mr. Dumbledore murmured.

"I believe the ones that have the star, are moments that already happened."

"Hmm."

Silence again.

I lowered my gaze down to the floor. He didn't believe me. My heart sank. I thought he did believe, that he was different. Why hadn't he say something? Did Mr. Dumbledore thought I was mad? I certainly do now!

Rather bravely, I raised my head a little. I yelped.

The image of Barty Crouch had been added with more scenery. Instead of the dark black void behind him, the rest of the page became green. The color of grass, precisely.

And, running from the corner of his mouth, a trickle of blood made its way down his chin.

"Oh god," I whispered, horrified to what I just had seen. Mr. Dumbledore didn't seem unfazed by this: instead, he stood up and, rounding the corner, he began to walk towards the oak doors.

"Bring the drawing book, Miss Barton," Dumbledore called over his shoulder. "Is possible that we may have to need it."

Not even answering, I just grabbed the damned notebook and began to follow him.

As we walked downstairs, the green robes of the professor wrinkled on his feet, making me wonder when was he going to stumble. Thankfully without accidents, we reached down, were the wall slide open and we met the back of Severus Snape. Hadn't he left already?

"Is there a problem?" Dumbledore asked curiously. I peered down his arm, and saw Snape glaring at - Harry?!

"Professor!" Harry called, sidestepping Snape, whom looked ready to say something. "Mr. Crouch is here - he's down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!"

My eyes widened. Mr. Crouch?

Dumbledore looked down at me briefly, before he nodded at Harry.

"Lead the way," he said promptly, and he swept off along the corridor behind Harry, with me hot on their trails.

"What did Mr. Crouch say, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as we walked swiftly down the marble staircase.

"Said he wants to warn you...said he's done something terrible...he mentioned his son...and Bertha Jorkins...and - and Voldemort...something about Voldemort getting stronger..." Harry said nervously.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, and he quickened his pace as we hurried out into the pitch-darkness. I almost fell down face to the ground as I tried to keep their stride.

"He's not acting normally," Harry said, hurrying along beside Dumbledore. "He doesn't seem to know where he is. He keeps talking like he thinks Percy Weasley's there, and then he changes, and says he needs to see you. ... I left him with Viktor Krum."

"You did what?" I asked sharply. Harry jumped, obviously not noticing me before.

"Do you know if anybody else saw Mr. Crouch?" Dumbledore asked in the same tone. Harry glanced at me before we both tried to keep up with his quick strides.

"No," Harry panted.

"That's too convenient," I murmured to myself.

"Krum and I were talking, Mr. Bagman had just finished telling us about the third task, we stayed behind, and then we saw Mr. Crouch coming out of the forest -"

"Where are they?" said Dumbledore as the Beauxbatons carriage emerged from the darkness.

"Over here," Harry said, moving in front of Dumbledore to led the way through the trees. It was eerily quiet. Harry said he left Krum with Mr. Crouch, so there would be sound of breathing.

I just hope Krum wasn't hurt.

"Viktor?" Harry shouted.

No one answered him.

"They were here," Harry said to Dumbledore as I pulled my wand out . "They were definitely somewhere around here..."

_"Lumos,"_ I said, lighting my wand and holding it up. Mr. Dumbledore did the same.

It narrow beam combined with mine, lightning up several tree trunks at a time, illuminating the ground. And then they fell upon a pair of feet.

The three of us hurried forward. Krum was sprawled on the forest floor. He seemed to be unconscious. There was no sign at all of Mr. Crouch. Dumbledore bent over Krum and gently lifted one of his eyelids.

"Stunned," he said softly. His half-moon glasses glittered in the wandlight as he peered around at the surrounding trees.

"Should we get help?" I asked him, looking around. Maybe Crouch was still around.

"No," Dumbledore said swiftly. "Stay here, both of you."

He raised his wand into the air and pointed it in the direction of Hagrid's cabin. I saw something silvery dart out of it and streak away through the trees like a ghostly bird. Then Dumbledore bent over Krum again, pointed his wand at him, and muttered, _"Ennervate."_

Krum opened his eyes. He looked dazed. When he saw Dumbledore, he tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder and made him lie still.

"He attacked me!" Krum muttered, putting a hand up to his head. "The old madman attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he attacked from behind!"

"Lie still for a moment," Dumbledore said.

The sound of thunderous footfalls reached us, and Hagrid came panting into sight with Fang at his heels. He was carrying his crossbow.

"Professor Dumbledore!" he said, his eyes widening. "Harry - Anne - what the -?"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore said. "His student has been attacked. Miss Barton, kindly alert Professor Moody -"

"No need, Dumbledore," said a wheezy growl. "I'm here."

Moody was limping toward us, leaning on his staff, his wand lit. He nodded at me, I did the same.

"Damn leg," he said furiously. "Would've been here quicker...what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch -"

"Crouch?" Hagrid said blankly.

"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" Dumbledore said sharply.

"Oh yeah...right y'are, Professor..." Hagrid said, and he turned and disappeared into the dark trees, Fang trotting after him.

"I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody, "but it is essential that we find him."

"I'm onto it," Moody growled, and he pulled out his wand and limped off into the forest.

We didn't spoke again until we heard the unmistakable sounds of Hagrid and Fang returning. Karkaroff was hurrying along behind them. He was wearing his sleek silver furs, and he looked pale and agitated.

"What is this?" he cried when he saw Krum on the ground and Dumbledore, Harry, and I beside him. "What's going on?"

"I vos attacked!" Krum said, sitting up now and rubbing his head. "Mr. Crouch or votever his name -"

"Crouch attacked you? _Crouch_ attacked you? The Triwizard judge?"

"Igor," Dumbledore began, but Karkaroff had drawn himself up, clutching his furs around him, looking livid.

"Treachery!" he bellowed, pointing at Dumbledore. "It is a plot! You and your Ministry of Magic have lured me here under false pretenses, Dumbledore! This is not an equal competition! First you sneak Potter into the tournament, though he is underage! Now one of your Ministry friends attempts to put my champion out of action! I smell double-dealing and corruption in this whole affair, and you, Dumbledore, you, with your talk of closer international wizarding links, of rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differences - here's what I think of you!"

Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet. In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against a nearby tree.

"Apologize!" Hagrid snarled as Karkaroff gasped for breath, Hagrid's massive fist at his throat, his feet dangling in midair.

You tell him, Hagrid!

"Hagrid, _no_!" Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing.

Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the tree, and Karkaroff slid all the way down the trunk and slumped in a huddle at its roots; a few twigs and leaves showered down upon his head.

"Kindly escort Harry and Anya back up to the castle, Hagrid," Dumbledore said sharply.

Breathing heavily, Hagrid gave Karkaroff a glowering look.

"Maybe I'd better stay here, Headmaster..."

"You will take Harry and Anya back to school, Hagrid," Dumbledore repeated firmly. "Take them right up to Gryffindor Tower. And Harry, Anya - I want you to stay there. Anything you might want to do - any owls you might want to send - they can wait until morning, do you understand me?"

"Er - yes," Harry said as we stared at him. I think Mr. Dumbledore just had guessed what Harry had planned to do.

"I'll leave Fang with yeh, Headmaster," Hagrid said, staring menacingly at Karkaroff, who was still sprawled at the foot of the tree, tangled in furs and tree roots. "Stay, Fang. C'mon, Harry, Anne."

We marched in silence past the Beauxbatons carriage and up toward the castle.

"How dare he," Hagrid growled as we strode past the lake. "How dare he accuse Dumbledore. Like Dumbledore'd do anythin' like that. Like Dumbledore wanted _you_ in the tournament in the firs' place. Worried! I dunno when I seen Dumbledore more worried than he's bin lately. An' you two!" Hagrid suddenly said angrily to Harry and I, both of us looking back at him, taken aback. "What were yeh doin', wanderin' off with ruddy Krum? He's from Durmstrang, Harry, Anne! Coulda jinxed yeh right there, couldn' he? Hasn' Moody taught either of yeh nothin'? 'Magine lettin' him lure yeh off on yer own -"

"Hey, I wasn't with him!" I exclaimed.

"Besides, Krum's all right!" Harry said as weclimbed the steps into the entrance hall. "He wasn't trying to jinx me, he just wanted to talk about Hermione -"

"Really?" I gushed. Harry was going to answer but Hagrid interrupted, again.

"I'll be havin' a few words with her, an' all," he said grimly, stomping up the stairs. "The less you lot 'ave ter do with these foreigners, the happier yeh'll be. Yeh can trust any of 'em."

"I trust James," I said firmly. _Besides all of his moody changes..._

"You were getting on all right with Madame Maxime," Harry said, annoyed.

They _exactly_ weren't the right words to say.

"Don' you talk ter me abou' her!" Hagrid shouted, making me stumble into Harry from the surprise. "I've got her number now! Tryin' ter get back in me good books, tryin' ter get me ter tell her what's comin' in the third task. Ha! You can' trust any of 'em! Not even tha' friend of yers, Anne!"

I glared at him, but decided to not say anything. Hagrid was in such fool mood because of Madam Maxime, not the _foreigners_. Saying a strained good-bye to him, I watched as he walked away.

Harry clambered through the portrait hole into the common room and hurried straight for the corner where Ron and Hermione were sitting, probably to tell them what had happened.

Gulping, I opened the notebook, marked on the page with Mr. Crouch's draw.

There was a pentagram star on the corner of the page.


	35. Divination Sucks

"Have you gone mad?"

_"What?"_

I dropped the drawing book on my bag. We were on the library, reading off a little bit of everything. Of course, Neville had wandered off to the Herbology section, while James had insisted that, if he was going to spend here his _precious_ time (note the sarcasm in here, please), he was going to read something useful. So, he set off to the Restricted Section, where Madam Pince just had kicked him out, much to my enjoyment.

As for myself, I had gone towards the part I never thought I would try to pry on. The Divination shelve.

When I said shelve, I meant it was just that. There wasn't a long section like the Dark Arts one or the big Charms hallway. The Divination part was just conformed by a tiny Muggle shelve.

Incredulous, I almost read all the section in just half an hour.

Opting for something more interesting to do, I had pulled out the notebook, which I had become to think as the Prediction book. Trying and failing, I hid the notebook in very different places, but the curiousness won over the stubbornness. Humoring me, I found out all the rest of the pages were blank. Except that they all had a big star on the middle, and that's all. No more drawings, no more moments for me to dread.

Ah, but as you know me, dread was already a part of my organism.

Since the accident in which Krum was stunned, I had gotten a rather obsessive way of carrying the prediction book with me. Between classes, in lunch, when we were resting on the courtyard, I always took a peek to it, hoping to caught a change. The sight of the trickle red of crayon falling from Mr. Crouch's mouth was _still_ burned deeply on my mind, and I certainly didn't want to presence another death in a drawing.

Neville had began to come suspicious of my actions, but he didn't mention it once. That's why I trusted Neville; he knew when was the right moment to talk about certain conversations.

James, of course, was all the contrary.

The first time he saw the notebook, he almost fell off his seat. I didn't pay any care for this, as Ginny had pulled his chair before he could sit at that moment.

Wonderful girl she is, by the way.

But then, he began to act jumpy. And believe me, James never could be _jumpy_ in his life. Surprisingly, he too, didn't comment on this for a while. I had caught him glaring at my bag in the corner of my eye, but that was it.

Today, it seemed, was the day he finally took up his courage (or should I rather say, his Sherlock Holmes Syndrome?) and talked about this.

"I repeat," said James carefully, "HAVE YOU GONE MAD?!"

I put both my hands on my ears, blocking the loud voice.

"There's no need to yell!"

"I was making sure the question entered fully in that thick skull of yours."

"Thick? Says the pot to the kettle!" I glared at him.

"Don't change the subject," he said impatiently, waving his hand to what it looked to be a soothing way. It didn't work. "This past days you have been gloomier. You didn't seem our cheerful self - well, the amount of normal cheerfulness you do per day. Then you are looking everywhere, like if you were expecting to be attacked by, say - Finnigan!"

"What does Seamus has to do in this conversation?" I asked him, annoyance coloring my voice.

"That's the thing! You seem to be cautious of _anyone_!" James added pressure on the last word. I reached through my memories... and I winced.

Yes. Not only I have been obsessive with the prediction book but, rather afraid of another drawing, I had started to look around my classmates. What if one of them appeared on one of the next drawings? Would it be something good? Or something bad? Would I see..._ their deaths_?

All the names I remember accumulated on my thoughts. Lavender... Parvati... Seamus... Dean... even the annoying Malfoy... Ron... Hermione... Neville... James... Uncle Sirius... Natasha... _Harry..._

In simple words, I was paranoid. Mad.

"Maybe I am," I whispered ruefully.

James didn't comment on it anymore. We didn't talk until Neville arrived.

* * *

Two days later, Harry approached me on the common room. He appeared to be nervous, as he was chewing on one of his thumbs.

"Hi Annie," he said casually. _TOO_ casually.

"Hey Harry, how are you?" I asked him politely.

"Fine," he squeaked out. And trying to be subtle, he sat beside me.

There was only silence. The chatting of the other students was quieting down. As I read, I could tell someone staring intently at me. Maybe it was the chill down my spine, or the heat of my face that I knew whom it was.

"Do you need anything Harry?" I asked him, peering at him over the prediction book. He was fidgeting with his hands, not looking at my face. I pursued my lips.

"Actually - yeah," he sighed. I closed the notebook. Grabbing my bag, I opened it and stuffed it inside. Harry eyed my prediction book with interest but it was already hidden of view, so he stared at my brown bag instead. His eyes were shining with curiosity. Oh, right. He hadn't seen it before.

"It's a gift," I said to him, putting the bag beside the table.

"From James?" he asked with a hoarsely voice. I raised an eyebrow at Harry. There was this strange look on his face, but when I tried to peer more closely, he let his bangs hid his emerald eyes.

"No," I answered quietly. "Natasha sent it to me. It belonged to my father."

His body stiffened and slowly raised his head. I blinked to see if my eyes were not deceiving me. His face turned ashamed but the look disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Oh," he whispered.

I looked away. His staring was too much for me: I didn't want to end up blurting my arising feelings for him.

"So, what is it" I awkwardly looked to the side.

Harry scratched awkwardly his neck. How _awkward_.

"Well - um, do you remember that time you taught me the Summoning charm?"

How could I forget? "Yeah. I am still sorry about your cut, by the way."

He waved a hand. "Don't worry. Though, what I mean is, that the Third Task is approaching. And I need someone to help me how to make work the spells."

I opened my mouth, and stupidly enough, I said, "You have Hermione."

Harry sheepishly smiled and chewed on his thumb. "Yes, but with you, I found it easier to understand. Even if your method is kind of brute," he chuckled.

I blushed._ Brute?_ James must have been rubbing on me too much.

"So, what do you say?" Harry asked me. He nervously watched my face (which I suppose looked blank), one of the corners of his mouth twitching upwards.

At least he hadn't made the puppy eyes and the pouting, or else, I'll be doomed.

* * *

Next few days I spend my time with Harry, Hermione and Ron, looking out for hexes that could be useful for the third task. I had brought my _Discovery of Witches_ book, as it had written a lot of spells with explications.

Particularly, Harry practiced the Stunning spell on the past week, I which Ron, Hermione and myself had to do a few... _sacrifices_.

"Can't we kidnap Mrs. Norris?" Ron suggested on Monday lunchtime as he lay flat on his back in the middle of our Charms classroom, having just been Stunned and reawaken by Harry for the fifth time in a row. "Let's Stun her for a bit. Or you could use Dobby, Harry, I bet he'd do anything to help you. I'm not complaining or anything" - he got gingerly to his feet, rubbing his backside - "but I'm aching all over..."

"At least Annie had the sense of charming the cushions for them to move before you fall backward!" Hermione retorted. It was true. Since James had scared me with Billy the bunny, I had wanted to learn the Animate spell by myself.

"Yeah," I chuckled. "Imagine yourself falling on the hard concrete. I think you would end on the Hospital Wing with a lot of bruises."

"Well, I think Harry got it now, anyway," Hermione said while she gathered her books. "As we don't have to worry about Disarming - you learned that _ages_ ago - "

"It's time for hexes!" I clapped my hands in enthusiasm. Grabbing my book and the list they made on the library, Hermione read thoughtfully.

"I like the look of this one," she said, "this Impediment Curse. Should slow down anything that's trying to attack you, Harry. We'll start with that one."

The bell rang. We hastily shoved the cushions back into Flitwick's cupboard and slipped out of the classroom.

"See you at dinner!" Hermione said, and she set off for Arithmancy, while Harry, Ron, and I headed toward North Tower, and Divination. Broad strips of dazzling gold sunlight fell across the corridor from the high windows. The sky outside was so brightly blue it looked as though it had been enameled.

"It's going to be boiling in Trelawney's room, she never puts out that fire," Ron said as we started up the staircase toward the silvery ladder and the trapdoor.

He was quite right. The dimly lit room was swelteringly hot. The fumes from the perfumed fire were heavier than ever. My head swam as Harry made his way over to one of the curtained windows. While Professor Trelawney was looking the other way, disentangling her shawl from a lamp, he opened it an inch or so and settled back in his chintz armchair. I walked to my table, were Neville was fanning himself with both his hands, face red as a tomato.

"How did it go?" he wheezed out. Once I sat down, I understood why the dramatic act. The fumes were more pronounced on this part of the room. I could barely see anything through the thick smoke.

I looked over at Harry. He was breathing very comfortably with the slight breeze ruffling his hair. As much as cute as I found him in that moment, I was jealous. The lucky bastard.

"My dears," Professor Trelawney said, sitting down in her winged armchair in front of the class and peering around at us all with her strangely enlarged eyes, "we have almost finished our work on planetary divination. Today, however, will be an excellent opportunity to examine the effects of Mars, for he is placed most interestingly at the present time. If you will all look this way, I will dim the lights..."

She waved her wand and the lamps went out. The fire was the only source of light now. Professor Trelawney bent down and lifted, from under her chair, a miniature model of the solar system, contained within a glass dome. It was a beautiful thing; each of the moons glimmered in place around the nine planets and the fiery sun, all of them hanging in thin air beneath the glass.

While she explained about the angle Mars was making to Neptune, I pulled out my wand and whispered softly, "_Aeris_."

A small gush of air passed in front of our faces. Neville sighed.

"You need to teach me that spell," he whispered gratefully.

It was hard to maintain the spell working while the perfumes washed over me. My head was tilting down, my chin touching my collarbone often. Neville insisted on me to teach him the air spell before I fell asleep. Like I had said once before, they underestimated Neville quite a lot. I just told him to whisper the spell and made the motion wand with my quill. It was a little more rougher with him, but Neville managed wonderfully compared to my first time. We took times on doing it, but a few minutes later Neville was mainly preventing us from losing air respiration. Once he took the lead, I started to become sleepy.

My eyes wanted to close, but I wouldn't let them. Even if this class was dead boring and easy to pass, there was something nagging me to keep awake. More than once, my forehead touched the red tablecloth of the table, successfully waking me up from the impact (more like the pain, actually). I just hope I don't end with a black spot on the forehead.

Finally giving up, I let my eye-lids close.

I was walking down a gloomy passageway. Everything was black, old. I finally entered a doorway, to a room with all the windows boarded up with wood. A chair appeared, its back in front of me. There were two dark shapes on the floor beside the chair. One of them was a huge snake, the other was a short man with balding hair: he had blue watery eyes and a pointed nose. A growl made its way into my chest.

"Pettigrew," I sneered.

"You're in luck, Wormtail," a cold, high-pitched voice said from the chair. "You are very fortunate indeed. Your blunder has not ruined everything. He is dead."

"My lord!" gasped Pettigrew from the floor. "My Lord, I am...I am so pleased...and so sorry..."

"Nagini," the cold voice said, "You are out of luck. I will not be feeding Wormtail to you, after all...but never mind, never mind...there is still Harry Potter..."

"_I will wait with pleasure, Master_," the snake hissed.

"Now, Wormtail," the cold voice said, "perhaps one more little reminder why I will not tolerate another blunder from you..."

"My Lord...no...I beg you..."

The tip of a wand emerged from around the back of the chair. It was pointing at Wormtail.

_"Crucio!"_ the cold voice said.

Pettigrew screamed, screamed as though every nerve in his body were on fire, the screaming filling my ears as my eyes burned.

Opening my eyes, I found out that the Pettigrew from my dream wasn't the only one screaming.

With a pang of pain on my heart, I realized whom it was.

Trashing on the floor, Harry Potter screamed in tortured pain.


	36. Never-Ending Story

**Dear Gwenlynn, in fact, it wasn't a castle were the vision took place, but a house. Tom Riddle Senior's house, I presume.**

**Once again, I apologize for the delay. School has attached a lasso around my neck, and my chemistry teacher is acting like Snape. In fact, I almost blew the experiment work we had on the week - like Neville does. I swear, he has greasy hair too!**

**Sadly, I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does.**

* * *

Pushing everyone who crossed my path, I made my way towards Ron and Harry's table. Harry was crashing around on the floor, panting, the scream from before fading soundless on his throat.

_Just like the Pettigrew from my imagination..._

Shaking my head, I reached them more quickly and I knelt besides Ron on the floor. He tried to grab Harry, but every time one of his hands were going to touch him, Harry made a violent move and howled. Desperate and suddenly feeling brave, I roughly grabbed his hands, as they were clawing his own face. Slamming them to his sides, he began to trash more harshly, his pants sounding harder, as if he was having problems to breath.

"Harry!" Ron called, helping restrain one arm that freed itself.

"Oi, Harry!" I shook him roughly from one side. It didn't work.

Without even caring that twenty pair of eyes were watching us, I cupped his face with both hands. I winced in pain though, when his hands suddenly freed and they mercilessly grabbed the back of both my hands.

_"Harry!" _

His eyes opened abruptly. His hands' tight grip faltered slightly, making me reluctantly let go.

"You alright?" Ron asked, merely sounding as a hoarse whisper.

"Of course he isn't!" Professor Trelawney said excitedly. I glared at her. Wasn't she supposed to take care of her students? "What was it, Potter? A premonition? An apparition? What did you see?" Apparently, Harry's health didn't matter.

"Nothing," he said curtly. Grabbing one of his elbows, I helped him to slowly sat up. To my confusion, he looked around us nervously, suddenly griping my hand tightly. I knew all the class was surrounding us, but Harry was almost used to public attention. So, were was his problem coming from?

"You were clutching your scar!" said Professor Trelawney. "You were rolling on the floor, clutching your scar! Come now. Potter, I have experience in these matters!"

I snorted saying, "Yeah right," while Harry looked up at her.

"Professor Trelawney, I think Harry should go to the hospital wing," Neville said firmly behind Ron, giving me a pointed look. I frowned at him, but decided to play along.

"Yeah," I nodded. "It seems Harry here has a very bad headache, hence the scream. So, I'm going to take him up to Madam Pomfrey."

Harry looked bewildered for a moment, but then I winked at him and he subtly nodded.

"My dear, you were undoubtedly stimulated by the extraordinary clairvoyant vibrations of my room!" cried the strange Professor. "If you leave now, you may lose the opportunity to see further than you have ever -"

"I don't want to see anything except a headache cure," snapped Harry.

As I helped him to stand up properly without him stumbling, the class backed away from us. They all looked unnerved.

Rolling my eyes, I mouthed a 'Thank you' to Neville, and after saying a goodbye of his own to Ron, Harry and I walked down until we reached the last step of Trelawney's ladder.

Harry looked a bit awkward, so I had to take up the lead. Still grabbing his elbow, I dragged him towards the opposite direction of the hospital wing.

"Annie, what - "

"Sirius told me that if something like this showed up, went straight towards Mr. Dumbledore," I interrupted him. He visibly relaxed.

"So, what really happened up there?"

"I think I fell asleep."

"No shit, Sherlock?" I asked him sarcastically.

Harry rolled his eyes before he continued. "I dreamed about Voldemort. he was accusing -"

"Pettigrew?" I said aloud, but he still continued.

"- Wormtail of making a blunder. He punished him for that. And they talked about - "

"About?" I encouraged him. We were pacing down the corridor. He didn't continue.

We stopped walking. As we stood in front of the familiar gargoyle statue, I realized something.

"Um, do you know the password?" because, I was sure as hell that Mr. Dumbledore must have changed the old one.

Realization hit Harry's face too. "No."

Annoyance flew through me. "Brilliant," I scowled. "Um, Choco Sparks."

Like I had thought, the password have been changed.

"Sherbet Lemon?" Harry tried tentatively.

The statue didn't move.

"Okay," Harry said with a sigh as we stared at it, "Pear Drop. Er -"

"Licorice Wand?"

"Fizzing Whizbee."

"Drooble's Best Blowing Gum."

"Bertie Bott's Ever Flavor Beans..."

"Nah, I don't think he likes those."

"Oh, just open up, will you!" Harry said angrily to the gargoyle. "We really need to see him, it's urgent!"

The gargoyle didn't even made the slightest move.

Then Harry kicked the statue, and funny enough, he began jumping on one leg. I chuckled, and he glared at me.

"Chocolate Frog!" he yelled angrily, standing on one leg. "Sugar Quill!" I put a hand on his arm to stop him.

"Stop it, wonder boy. I don't need you getting hurt before the last task," I puffed out my cheeks in annoyance as I stared at the gargoyle.

I began tapping my foot on the floor and crossed both my arms.

"Annie, it's not time for you to - !"

"Cockroach Cluster."

The gargoyle suddenly sprang to life and jumped aside. I blinked happily while Harry had the decency to gap openly at the statue. His eyes darted between the gargoyle and me.

"How?" Harry asked as he stared at me.

"With Mr. Dumbledore, always expect the unexpected," I shrugged like if this didn't surprise me anymore. Ha! As if that man couldn't stop surprising me every year! And certainly, that name just popped out of nowhere. In fact, I was only joking when I said it.

We hurried through the gap in the walls and stepped onto the foot of a spiral stone staircase, which moved slowly upward as the doors closed behind us, taking us up to a polished oak door with a brass door knocker.

We could hear voices from inside the office. We stepped off the moving staircase and hesitated, listening.

"Dumbledore, I'm afraid I don't see the connection, don't see it at all!" It was the voice of the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. "Ludo says Bertha's perfectly capable of getting herself lost. I agree we would have expected to have found her by now, but all the same, we've no evidence of foul play, Dumbledore, none at all. As for her disappearance being linked with Barty Crouch's!"

"And what do you think's happened to Barty Crouch, Minister?" Moody's growling voice said.

"I see two possibilities, Alastor," Fudge said. "Either Crouch has finally cracked - more than likely, I'm sure you'll agree, given his personal history - lost his mind, and gone wandering off somewhere -"

"He wandered extremely quickly, if that is the case, Cornelius," Dumbledore said calmly.

"Or else - well..." Fudge sounded embarrassed. "Well, I'll reserve judgment until after I've seen the place where he was found, but you say it was just past the Beauxbatons carriage? Dumbledore, you know what the woman _is_?"

"I consider her to be a very able headmistress - and an excellent dancer," Dumbledore said quietly.

"Dumbledore, come!" Fudge said angrily. "Don't you think you might be prejudiced in her favor because of Hagrid? They don't all turn out harmless - if, indeed, you can call Hagrid harmless, with that monster fixation he's got -"

"I no more suspect Madame Maxime than Hagrid," Dumbledore said, just as calmly. "I think it possible that it is you who is prejudiced, Cornelius."

"Can we wrap up this discussion?" Moody growled.

"Yes, yes, let's go down to the grounds, then," Fudge said impatiently.

"No, it's not that," Moody said, "it's just that Potter and Barton want a word with you, Dumbledore. They're just outside the door."

Excellent way to break the tension of a conversation, if you ask me.

The door of the office opened.

"Hello, Potter, Barton," Moody said. "Come in, then."

As usual, the extravagance of the Headmaster's office let me speechless. Except that now all the Headmasters and Headmistress' portraits were sleeping.

The Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, was standing beside Mr. Dumbledore's desk wearing his usual pinstriped cloak and holding his lime-green bowler hat.

"Harry!" the man greeted jovially. "How are you?"

"Fine."

"I don't think we have been introduced," Fudge said as he stared at me curiously. Psst! Like if he cared!

"Barton, sir. Anya Barton," I had moved forward and in an instant, Fudge was shaking my hand. He had this strange look on his face.

"Oh, yes! Well, it is nice to meet you, miss. I can see your resemblance with your father."

Interested, I raised my eyebrows. "Really? I thought I got my mother's good looks."

His laugh boomed in the silent office.

"You're right! But it seems you have your father's humor," Fudge chuckled. "Either way, we were just talking about the night when Mr. Crouch turned up on the grounds. It was you who found him, was it not, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry said. Then, he added, "We didn't see Madame Maxime anywhere, though, and she'd have a job hiding, wouldn't she?"

I snorted at the image that brought. Dumbledore smiled at Harry behind Fudge's back, his eyes twinkling.

"Yes, well," Fudge said, looking embarrassed, "we're about to go for a short walk on the grounds, Harry, Anya, if you'll both excuse me...perhaps if you just go back to your class -"

"We wanted to talk to you, Professor," I broke in quickly, looking at Dumbledore, who gave us each a swift, searching look.

"Wait here for me, Anya, Harry," he said. "Our examination of the grounds will not take long."

They trooped out in silence past us and closed the door. After a minute or so, Harry and I heard the clunks of Moody's wooden leg growing fainter in the corridor below. We looked around.

"Hello, Fawkes," he said.

Fawkes, Dumbledore's pheonix, was standing on his golden perch beside the door. The size of a swan, with magnificent scarlet-and-gold plumage, he swished his long tail and blinked benignly at Harry and I. Last time I was here, I hadn't seen him. Perhaps he was out, hunting.

Harry sat down in a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk while I silently stood behind him, words forming on my mind.

"What are you going to tell him?" I asked curiously.

He shrugged. "Everything, I guess."

Shaking my head, I once more began to pace. What had this meant? Could it be that his vision and what I had dreamt were related? It was more likely. But how? How could've we both seen the same thing?

Suddenly, Harry stood up and began walking to a black cabinet behind us. I haven't noticed it, but there was this silvery-white light that shone through the tiny doors and up to the wall.

Opening it, I looked over his shoulder and saw a shallow stone basin with odd carvings around the edge: runes and symbols I had seen on my _Discovery of Witches_ book. The silvery light was coming from the basin's contents, which were like nothing I had ever seen before. It could be gas, or was it something liquid? It was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked like light made liquid - or like wind made solid.

I wanted to touch it. And so I did. Pulling out my index finger, I was close to touching it.

"Annie!" Harry grabbed my hand, but unfortunately, his strength made me stumble, and roughly, my hand ended inside the basin.

Everything began to swirl. We both were thrown forward as Mr. Dumbledore's office lurched. As we both had been headfirst, I thought we would have ended hitting the bottom. We were falling through something icy-cold and black; it was like being sucked into a dark whirlpool -

And suddenly, we found ourselves, not in Dumbledore's office, but an all-together different place.

The room was dimly lit, underground must be. There were no windows, just torches in brackets like the ones that light the corridors in Hogwarts. Rows and rows of witches and wizards were seated around every wall on benches rising in levels. An empty chair stood in the very center of the room. There was something about the chair that made me shiver. Chains encircled the arms of it, as though its occupants were usually tied to it.

"Um, Annie?"

Harry had said my name so may times I believe he will tattoo it on his skin. "What?"

"Can you please move? You're - erm, kind of - straddling me."

And so I was. He had his arms wrapped around my waist, not letting me fall. My back faced him, gratefully making him not able to see my red tomato face. I quickly scrambled and too a seat besides Harry on the bench.

You know, after doing a very dramatic entrance (in my opinion), I ought to say we should have been attacked. I mean, there's like two hundred witches at least, and not one single of them had sparred us a glance. Was it normal for them to see two fourteen year old teenagers fall from the ceiling? From my other side, Harry gave a very loud cry of surprise, and quickly, I searched for the problem.

We were sitting next to Albus Dumbledore.

"Whoa!" I jumped backwards, taking Harry with me, seeing as he had done the same and ended leaning on me.

"Professor!" Harry gasped. "We're sorry - we didn't mean to - we were just looking at that basin in your cabinet - then Annie - we - where are we?"

But Dumbledore didn't move or speak. He ignored us completely. Like every other wizard on the benches, he was staring into the far corner of the room, where there was a door.

I, myself looked around, wondering what the hell was happening.

"Annie," Harry's quiet voice made me look disturbed at him. "I think we are on a memory."

I couldn't help it. I gasped and stood, reaching over Harry and frantically waved a hand in front of Mr. Dumbledore's face. He did not blink, nor look at one of us. I knew he wouldn't act like this, so Harry must be right. A memory, who would have thought I would end seeing one in flesh and blood.

Obviously still shocked, Harry slapped my hand away and made me sit properly.

"What are the waiting for...?" he mumbled.

"This place... it looks like a Muggle tribunal..." I thought aloud.

Before we reached any other conclusion, we heard footsteps. The door in the corner of the dungeon opened and three people entered - or at least one man, flanked by two dementors.

My insides went cold. The dementors - tall, hooded figures whose faces were concealed - were gliding slowly toward the chair in the center of the room, each grasping one of the man's arms with their dead and rotten-looking hands. The man between them looked as though he was about to faint, and I certainly couldn't blame him for it ... I knew the dementors could not touch us inside a memory, but I remembered their power only too well. The watching crowd recoiled slightly as the dementors placed the man in the chained chair and glided back out of the room. The door swung shut behind them.

"Karkaroff?" I exclaimed. The man indeed was Karkaroff. Unlike Mr. Dumbledore, whom looked like he hadn't aged at all, this man looked younger. His hair and goatee were black. He was not dressed in sleek furs, but in thin and ragged robes. He was shaking. The chains on his chair glowed gold, and slowly, they snaked their way up to Karkaroff's arms, preventing any form of escape for him. I had read about those in Hermione's gift. They were called Chain Bind: no one but the caster could pull them off. Powerful magic, if I recall.

"Igor Karkaroff," a curt voice said to my and Harry's left. We looked around and saw Mr. Crouch standing up in the middle of the bench beside us. Crouch's hair was dark, his face was much less lined, he looked fit and alert. "You have been brought from Azkaban to present evidence to the Ministry of Magic. You have given us to understand that you have important information for us."

Karkaroff straightened himself as best he could, tightly bound to the chair.

"I have, sir," he said, and although his voice was very scared, I could still hear the familiar unctuous note in it. "I wish to be of use to the Ministry. I wish to help. I - I know that the Ministry is trying to - to round up the last of the Dark Lord's supporters. I am eager to assist in any way I can..."

There was a murmur around the benches. Some of the wizards and witches were surveying Karkaroff with interest, others with pronounced distrust. Then I heard, quite distinctly, from Dumbledore's other side, a familiar, growling voice saying, "Filth."

While Harry had leaned forward, I had to lean backwards carefully. As we both saw past Dumbledore, we found out that the owner of the voice was non other than Mad-Eye Moody. He certainly looked better with his two eyes. He was staring in intense dislike at Karkaroff.

"Crouch is going to let him out," Moody breathed quietly to Dumbledore. "He's done a deal with him. Took me six months to track him down, and Crouch is going to let him go if he's got enough new names. Let's hear his information, I say, and throw him straight back to the dementors."

Mr. Dumbledore made a small noise of dissent through his long, crooked nose.

"Ah, I was forgetting...you don't like the dementors, do you, Albus?" Moody said with a sardonic smile.

"No," Dumbledore said calmly, "I'm afraid I don't. I have long felt the Ministry is wrong to ally itself with such creatures."

"But for filth like this..." Moody said softly.

"You say you have names for us, Karkaroff," Mr. Crouch said. "Let us hear them, please."

"You must understand," Karkaroff siad hurriedly, "that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named operated always in the greatest secrecy...He preferred that we - I mean to say, his supporters - and I regret now, very deeply, that I ever counted myself among them -"

"Get on with it," Moody sneered.

" - we never knew the names of every one of our fellows - He alone knew exactly who we all were -"

"Which was a wise move, wasn't it, as it prevented someone like you, Karkaroff, from turning all of them in," Moody muttered.

"Yet you say you have _some_ names for us?" Mr. Crouch said.

"I - I do," Karkaroff said breathlessly. "And these were important supporters, mark you. People I saw with my own eyes doing his bidding. I give this information as a sign that I fully and totally renounce him, and I am filled with a remorse so deep I can barely -"

"These names are?" Mr. Crouch said sharply.

Karkaroff drew a deep breath.

"There was Antonin Dolohov," he said. "I - I saw him torture countless Muggles and - and non-supporters of the Dark Lord."

"And helped him do it," Moody murmured.

"We have already apprehended Dolohov," Crouch said. "He was caught shortly after yourself."

"Indeed?" Karkaroff said, his eyes widening. "I - I am delighted to hear it!"

But he didn't look it. I could tell that this news had come as a real blow to him. One of his names was worthless.

"Any others?" Crouch asked coldly.

"Why, yes...there was Rosier," Karkaroff said hurriedly. "Evan Rosier."

"Rosier is dead," Crouch said. "He was caught shortly after you were too. He preferred to fight rather than come quietly and was killed in the struggle."

"Took a bit of me with him, though," Moody whispered to Harry's right. Harry and I looked around at him once more, and saw him indicating the large chunk out of his nose to Dumbledore.

"No - no more than Rosier deserved!" Karkaroff said, a real note of panic in his voice now. I could see that he was starting to worry that none of his information would be of any use to the Ministry. Karkaroff's eyes darted toward the door in the corner, behind which the dementors undoubtedly still stood, waiting.

"Any more?" Crouch asked.

"Yes!" Karkaroff said. "There was Travers - he helped murder the McKinnons and the Rosenbergs!" I growled. Of course I remembered the name of Natasha's parents murderer. I hoped - no, _wished_ - that he had received the worst punishment Dementors could give. From the corner of my eye, I could see Harry staring bewildered at me, but he didn't question my sudden change of mood. "Mulciber - he specialized in the Imperius Curse, forced countless people to do horrific things! Rookwood, who was a spy, and passed He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named useful information from inside the Ministry itself!"

Karkaroff had struck gold. The watching crowd was all murmuring together.

"Rookwood?" Mr. Crouch said, nodding to a witch sitting in front of him, who began scribbling upon her piece of parchment. "Augustus Rookwood of the Department of Mysteries?"

"The very same," Karkaroff said eagerly. "I believe he used a network of well-placed wizards, both inside the Ministry and out, to collect information -"

"But Travers and Mulciber we have," Mr. Crouch said. "Very well, Karkaroff, if that is all, you will be returned to Azkaban while we decide -"

"Not yet!" Karkaroff cried, looking quite desperate. "Wait, I have more!"

He sweating in the torchlight, his white skin contrasting strongly with the black of his hair and beard.

"Snape!" he shouted. "Severus Snape!"

"Snape has been cleared by this council," Crouch said disdainfully. "He has been vouched for by Albus Dumbledore."

"No!" Karkaroff shouted, straining at the chains that bound him to the chair. "I assure you! Severus Snape is a Death Eater!"

Dumbledore had gotten to his feet.

"I have given evidence already on this matter," he said calmly. "Severus Snape was indeed a Death Eater. However, he rejoined our side before Lord Voldemort's downfall and turned spy for us, at great personal risk. He is now no more a Death Eater than I am."

That's _reassuring_.

I turned to look at Mad-Eye Moody. He was wearing a look of deep skrepticism behind Dumbledore's back.

"Very well, Karkaroff," Crouch said coldly, "you have been of assistance. I shall review your case. You will return to Azkaban in the meantime..."

Mr. Crouch's voice faded. The dungeon began to dissolve as if it were made of smoke: I clutched tightly Harry's arm. the place faded into darkness -

And then we returned to the dungeon. Harry and I were sitting in a different seat, still on the highest bench, but now to the left side of Mr. Crouch. The atmosphere seemed quite different: relaxed, even cheerful. The witches and wizards all around the walls were talking to one another, almost as though they were at some sort of sporting event. Harry and I noticed a witch halfway up the rows of benches opposite. She had short blond hair, was wearing magenta robes, and was sucking the end of an acid-green quill. It was, unmistakably, a young Rita Skeeter. We looked around; Dumbledore was sitting beside us again, wearing different robes. Mr. Crouch looked more tired and somehow fiercer, gaunter... I understood. It was a different memory, a different day...a different trial.

The door in the corner opened, and Ludo Bagman walked into the room.

This was not, however, a Ludo Bagman gone to seed, but a Ludo Bagman who was clearly at the height of his Quidditch-playing fitness. His nose wasn't broken now; he was tall and lean and muscular. Bagman looked nervous as he sat down in the chained chair, but it did not bind him there as it had bound Karkaroff, and Bagman, perhaps taking heart from this, glanced around at the watching crowd, waved at a couple of them, and managed a small smile.

"Ludo Bagman, you have been brought here in front of the Council of Magical Law to answer charges relating to the activities of the Death Eaters," Mr. Crouch said. "We have heard the evidence against you, and are about to reach our verdict. Do you have anything to add to your testimony before we pronounce judgement?"

I couldn't believe my ears. _Ludo Bagman, a Death Eater? That nut being a killer?_

I had the urge to laugh loudly.

"Only," Bagman said, smiling awkwardly, "well - I know I've been a bit of an idiot -"

One or two wizards and witches in the surrounding seats smiled indulgently. Mr. Crouch did not appear to share their feelings. He was staring down at Ludo Bagman with an expression of the utmost severity and dislike.

"You never spoke a truer word, boy," someone muttered dryly to Dumbledore behind us. We looked around and saw Moody sitting there again. "If I didn't know he'd always been dim, I'd have said some of those Bludgers had permanently affected his brain..."

"Ludovic Bagman, you were caught passing information to Lord Voldemort's supporters," Mr. Crouch said. "For this, I suggest a term of imprisonment in Azkaban lasting no less than -"

But there was an angry outcry from the surrounding benches. Several of the witches and wizards around the walls stood up, shaking their heads, and even their fists, at Mr. Crouch.

"But I've told you, I had no idea!" Bagman called earnestly over the crowd's babble, his round blue eyes widening. "None at all! Old Rookwook was a friend of my dad's...never crossed my mind he was in with You-Know-Who! I thought I was collecting information for our side! And Rookwood kept talking about getting me a job in the Ministry later on...once my Quidditch days are over, you know...I mean, I can't keep getting hit by Bludgers for the rest of my life, can I?"

There were titters from the crowd.

"It will be put to the vote," Mr. Crouch said coldly. He turned to the right-hand side of the dungeon. "The jury will please raise their hands...those in favor of imprisonment..."

Harry and I looked toward the right-hand side of the dungeon. Not one person raised their hand. Many of the witches and wizards around the walls began to clap. One of the witches on the jury stood up.

"Yes?" Crouch barked.

"We'd just like to congratulate Mr. Bagman on his splendid performance for England in the Quidditch match against Turkey last Saturday," the witch said breathlessly.

Mr. Crouch looked furious. The dungeon was ringing with applause now. Bagman got to his feet and bowed, beaming.

"Despicable," Mr. Crouch spat at Dumbledore, sitting down as Bagman walked out of the dungeon. "Rookwood get him a job indeed...The day Ludo Bagman joins us will be a sad day indeed for the Ministry..."

And the dungeon dissolved again. When it had returned, Harry and I looked around. We and Dumbledore were still sitting beside Mr. Crouch, but the atmosphere could not have been more different. There was total silence, broken only by the dry sobs of a frail, wispy-looking witch in the seat next to Mr. Crouch. She was clutching a handkerchief to her mouth with trembling hands. We both looked up at Crouch and saw that he looked gaunter and grayer than ever before. A nerve was twitching in his temple.

"Bring them in," he said, and his voice echoed through the silent dungeon.

The door in the corner opened yet again. Six dementors entered this time, flanking a group of four people. I saw the people in the crowd turn to look up at Mr. Crouch. A few of them whispered to one another.

The dementors placed each of the four people in the four chairs with chained arms that now stood on the dungeon floor. There was a thickset man who stared blankly up at Crouch; a thinner and more nervous-looking man, whose eyes were darting around the crowd; a woman with thick, shining dark hair and heavily hooded eyes, who was sitting in the chained chair as though it were a throne; and a boy in his late teens, who looked nothing short of petrified. He was shivering, his straw-colored hair all over his face, his freckled skin milk-white. Curious, I darted my gaze between the woman and the boy. they _did_ seem familiar...

The wispy little witch beside Crouch began to rock backward and forward in her seat, whimpering into her handkerchief.

Crouch stood up. He looked down upon the four in front of him, and there was pure hatred in his face.

"You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law," he said clearly, "so that we may pass judgement on you, for a crime so heinous -"

"Father," the boy with the straw-colored hair said. "Father...please..."

" - that we have rarely heard the like of it within this court," Crouch said, speaking more loudly, drowning out his son's voice. "We have heard the evidence against you. The four of you stand accused of capturing an Auror - Frank Longbottom - and subjecting him to the Cruciatus Curse, believing him to have knowledge of the present whereabouts of your exiled master, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named -"

"Father, I didn't!" shrieked the boy in chains below. "I didn't, I swear it, Father, don't send me back to the dementors -"

"You are further accused," Mr. Crouch bellowed, "of using the Cruciatus Curse on Frank Longbottom's wife, when he would not give you information. You planned to restore He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to power, and to resume the lives of violence you presumably led while he was strong -"

"No, father!" the boy sobbed. "I didn't! Please -"

"And lastly. You," Crouch looked up. I followed his gaze and saw him staring at the woman. She was smiling mockingly at him. My eyes widened. _NO! She couldn't be - _"Are accused of using the Cruciatus Curse on Auror Alexander Barton while in duty - being murdered protecting his daughter - Anya Barton, whom was subjected with the Cruciatus Curse and to a failed attempt of murder."

I was gaping. I knew Harry was now openly turned to me, asking with his eyes why didn't I tell him. I simply didn't knew. Looking at the woman, I finally noticed it: the shape of her face, her tall lanky yet curvaceous form, the shaped doe wide eyes that gave her a crazy look, the confidence on her posture. All of this belonged to the Black's family charm. She was the murderer of my father. She was the woman I most feared. She was a _Black_.

She was Bellatrix.

"I now ask the jury -"

"Mother!" the boy screamed below, and I heard the wispy little witch beside Crouch begin to sob, rocking backward and forward. "Mother, stop him, Mother, I didn't do it, it wasn't me!"

"I now ask the jury," Mr. Crouch shouted, "to raise their hands if they believe, as I do, that these crimes deserve a life sentence in Azkaban!"

Yes they did. I wanted them all to die in prison. make them pay for their acts. For hurting Neville's parents: making him grew alone without the love of his mother and the proud gaze of his father. For their fault, I was sent to the Orphanage: I could have grow with my father. Sure, I would dearly miss my mum, but I would still have my father's presence on my life. Love, I would have grew in a loving childhood. But instead, I was a neglected child, a freak. Yes. they must pay.

I flinched from the touch. Harry had wrapped me in a one sided strong hug, his cheek resting against mine.

I should have blushed. I should have stuttered. I was supposed to move away from him on embarrassment and look at anything but him.

I didn't.

I welcomed his touch, burying my head on his shoulder. He only hugged me closer, squeezing my shoulder. I let the tears fall in silence.

The boy began to scream.

"No! Mother, no! I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I didn't know! Don't send me there, don't let him!"

They had sentenced them, just like I wished it to.

Did that make me a bad person?

"No! Mother, no! I didn't do it, I didn't do it, I didn't know! Don't send me there, don't let him!"

I lifted my head to see what would happen. The dementors were gliding back into the room. The boys' three companions rose quietly from their seats; Bellatrix, with the heavy-lidded eyes looked up at Crouch and called, "The Dark Lord will rise again, Crouch! Throw us into Azkaban; we will wait! He will rise again and will come for us, he will reward us beyond any of his other supporters! We alone were faithful! We alone tried to find him!"

But the boy was trying to fight off the dementors, even though I could see their cold, draining power starting to affect him. The crowd was jeering, some of them on their feet, as Bellatrix swept out of the dungeon, and the boy continued to struggle.

"I'm your son!" he screamed up at Crouch. "I'm your son!"

"You are no son of mine!" Mr. Crouch bellowed, his eyes bulging suddenly. "I have no son!"

The wispy witch beside him gave a great gasp and slumped in her seat. She had fainted. Crouch appeared not to have noticed.

"Take them away!" Crouch roared at the dementors, spit flying from his mouth. "Take them away, and may they rot there!"

"Father! Father, I wasn't involved! No! No! Father, please!"

"I think, Harry, Anya, it's time to return to my office," came a quiet voice besides us.

There was an Albus Dumbledore sitting to my left, watching the dementors dragging away Crouch's son- and there was an Albus Dumbledore sitting on my right, looking right at me and Harry.

"Come," the Dumbledore on our left said, and he put his hand under Harry's elbow. He already had a grab on me. I felt ourselves rising into the air; the dungeon dissolved around us; for a moment, all was blackness, and then I felt as though we had done a slow-motion somersault, suddenly landing flat on our feet, in what seemed like the dazzling light of Dumbledore's sunlit office. The stone basin was shimmering in the cabinet in front of us, and Albus Dumbledore was standing beside us. Suddenly remembering our position, I wriggled out of Harry's grasp and scooted a few feet away from him. Away from all of this.

"Professor," Harry gasped, "I know I shouldn't've - we didn't mean - the cabinet door was sort of open and -"

"I quite understand," Dumbledore said. He lifted the basin, carried it over to his desk, placed it upon the polished top, and sat down in the chair behind it. He motioned for Harry and I to sit down opposite him. I did so without complain.

The contents on the basin had returned to their original, silvery-white state, swirling and rippling beneath our gaze.

"What is this?" Harry asked shakily.

"This? It is called a Pensieve," Dumbledore said. "I sometimes find, and I am sure you both know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind."

I nodded. Yes... there was too much on my mind lately... like what I had just seen...

"At these times," Dumbledore said, indicating the stone basin, "I use the Pensieve. One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure. It becomes easier to spot patterns and links, you understand, when they are in this form."

"You mean...that stuff's your _thoughts_?" I asked, staring at the swirling white substance in the basin.

"Certainly," Dumbledore said. "Let me show you."

Dumbledore drew out his wand out of his robes and placed it to the tip of his silvery hair, near his temple. When he took the wand away, it looked like there was hair sticking to it- but then I saw that it was same shimmering substance that filled the Pensieve. Dumbledore than added the new thought to the Pensieve, and I was astonished to see mine and Harry's faces swimming around in the bowl. Then they faded, and were replaced by Snape's, who opened his mouth and spoke to the ceiling.

"It's coming back...Karkaroff's too...stronger and more clearer than ever..."

"A connection I could have made without much assistance," Dumbledore muttered. "But never mind that." He peered over the edge of his half-moon spectacles at Harry and me. "I was using the Pensieve when Mr. Fudge arrived for our meeting and I put it away quite hastily. Obviously I didn't close the cabinet door properly. Naturally, it would have attracted your attention."

"Sorry," we both mumbled.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Curiosity is not a sin," he said. "But we should always exercise with our curiosity...yes, indeed..."

Frowning slightly, he prodded the thoughts within the basin with the tip of his wand. Instantly, a figure rose out of it, a plump, scowling girl of about sixteen, who began to revolve slowly, with her feet still in the basin. She took no notice whatsoever of Harry, Professor Dumbledore, or myself. When she spoke, her voice echoed as Snape's had done, as though it were coming from the depths of the stone basin. "He put a hex on me, Professor Dumbledore, and I was only teasing him, sir, I only said I'd seen him kissing Florence behind the greenhouse last Thursday..."

"But why, Bertha," Dumbledore said sadly, looking up at the now silently revolving girl, "why did you have to follow him in the first place?"

"Bertha?" Harry whispered, looking up at her. "Is that - was that Bertha Jorkins?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, prodding the thoughts in the basin again; Bertha sank back into them, and they became silvery and opague once more. "That was Bertha as I remember her at school."

The silvery light from the Pensieve illuminated Dumbledore's face, and it struck suddenly how very old he was looking. I knew, of course, that Mr. Dumbledore was getting on in years, but somehow we never really thought of Dumbledore as an old man.

"So, Harry, Anya," Dumbledore said quietly. "Before you both got lost in my thoughts, you wanted to tell me something."

I nudged Harry's side gently and motioned for him to tell.

"Yes," he nodded. "Professor - we were in Divination just now, and - er - I fell asleep."

He hesitated but Mr. Dumbledore merely said, "Quite understandable. Continue."

"Well, I had a dream," Harry said. "A dream about Lord Voldemort. He was torturing Wormtail... you know who Wormtail-"

"I do know," Mr. Dumbledore said. "Please continue."

"Voldemort said something like Wormtail's blunder had to be repaired. He said someone was dead. Then he said, Wormtail wouldn't be fed to the snake- there was a snake beside the chair- he said he'd be feeding me to it instead. Then he did the Cruciatus Curse on Wormtail- and my scar hurt," Harry said. "It woke me up, it hurt so badly."

Mr. Dumbledore merely looked at him before he gazed at me, the question hanging on his eyes.

"I saw it," I said quietly, staring down at my gaze. I was suddenly shy. "The room kind of - suffocated me, I was dizzy. Then I saw them. I was on a corridor of an old house - Victorian style - they were talking, he was arguing - he didn't have the power enough to punish him, but he still did so."

They were looking at me. I was sure of it. I was almost sure - one gaze was filled with hidden pity, the other concealing his sudden rage.

"That's all, I suppose," I mumbled.

"I see," Dumbledore said quietly. He turned to Harry and said. "Now, has your scar hurt at any other time this year, excepting the time it woke you up over the summer?"

"No, I- how did you know it woke me up over the summer?" Harry said.

"The two of you aren't Sirius's only correspondent," Dumbledore said. "I have also been in contact with Sirius since he left Hogwarts last year. It was I that suggested mountainside cave in Hogsmeade as the safest place for him to stay." Silence. "Is this the first time it happens Annie?"

I opened my mouth to say 'yes', but I stopped short. No, it wouldn't be the first time. There was third year, when I saw Sirius' eyes on the crystal ball in Divination. The Divination exam itself. When I stared at the crystal hand ball Tonks gave me, and I had unknowingly seen the attack on the World Cup. Then there were the drawings. The already drawn future. Eh, it seemed fate has been carved on page rather than stone.

I shook my head, not trusting my voice.

Thankfully, Mr. Dumbledore didn't ask further on it.

He got up and began pacing behind his desk. Every now and then, he'd place his wand to his temple and withdraw another memory, adding it to the Pensieve. The thoughts inside began to swirl so fast I wasn't able to make any of it out- it was all just a blur of color.

"Professor?" I called hoarsely. It would be one of the rare times I called him 'professor'. It always had been 'Mr.', but right now, I needed a logical answer: something that could possibly give me a solution.

Dumbledore stopped pacing and looked at Harry and I.

"My apologies," he said quietly. He sat back down at his desk.

"D'you- d'you know why my scar is hurting me?" Harry asked.

"Or my... problem," I trailed quietly, not looking up from my lap.

Dumbledore looked very intently at Harry and I for a moment, and then said, "I'm afraid your question can only be answered by Miss Rosenberg, Annie," he said quietly. I shook my head once more. Would the surprises ever end? "But, I have a theory," he nodded at Harry. "No more than that. ... It is my belief that your scar hurts both when Lord Voldemort is near you, and when he is feeling a particularly strong surge of hatred."

"But. . . why?"

"Because you and he are connected by the curse that failed," said Dumbledore. "That is no ordinary scar."

"So you think . . . that dream . . . did it really happen?"

"It is possible," said Mr. Dumbledore. "I would say - probable." He suddenly turned to me. "Annie, did you see Voldemort?"

"No," I said. "Just the back of the chair he was on. I saw this as if I had been eavesdropping on the door."

The Professor nodded gravely, now asking, "Did you see him then, Harry?

Said boy shook his head. "It's the same. But - there wouldn't have been anything to see, would there? I mean, he hasn't got a body, has he? But...but then how could he have held the wand?" Harry finished slowly, looking curiously at Mr. Dumbledore, then me. I swiftly looked away from his too intense eyes.

"How indeed?" Dumbledore muttered. "How indeed..."

Neither Dumbledore, Harry, nor I spoke for a while. Dumbledore was gazing across the room, and, every now and then, placed his wand tip to his temple and added another shining silver thought to the seething mass within the Pensieve.

"Professor," Harry said at last, "do you think he's getting stronger?"

"Voldemort?" Dumbledore said, looking at Harry and I over the Pensieve. It was the characteristic, piercing look Dumbledore had given us on other occasions, and always made Harry and I feel as though Dumbledore was seeing right through us in a way that even Moody's magical eye could not. "Once again, Harry, I can only give you my suspicions."

Dumbledore sighed again, and he looked older, and wearier, than ever.

"The years of Voldemort's ascent to power," he said, "were marked with disappearances. Bertha Jorkins has vanished without a trace in the place where Voldemort was certainly known to be last. Mr. Crouch too has disappeared...within these very grounds. And there was a third disappearance, one which the Ministry, I regret to say, does not consider of any importance, for it concerns a Muggle. His name was Frank Bryce, he lived in the village where Voldemort's father grew up, and he has not been seen since last August. You see, I read the Muggle newspapers, unlike most of my Ministry friends."

Dumbledore looked very seriously at Harry and I.

"These disappearances seem to me to be linked. The Ministry disagrees - as you both may have heard, while waiting outside my office."

Harry and I nodded. Silence fell between us again, Dumbledore extracting thoughts every now and then. I had the urge to go. hid on the girl's dormitory, ponder silently on bed, tell Caleb all of my worries. At least he would hear and not criticize.

"Professor?" Harry said.

"Yes, Harry?" said Dumbledore.

"Er . . . could I ask you about. . . that court thing we were in ... in the Pensieve?"

"You could," said Dumbledore heavily. "I attended it many times, but some trials come back to me more clearly than others ... particularly now. ..."

"You know - you know the trial you found me in? The one with Crouch's son? Well...were they talking about Neville's parents?" he then looked at me. "About your dad?"

For once, I was grateful he had asked this. I had been pondering a little, but the shock was too much to held.

Dumbledore gave Harry a very sharp look. "Has Neville never told either of you why he has been brought up by his grandmother?" he asked.

I shook my head. The last time something too personal about Neville had been brought, we both had been to emotional, not feeling like admitting it to each other. What happened on Moody's class... it was all related to his parents, my dad...

"Yes, they were talking about Neville's parents and your father, Annie," Dumbledore said. "His father, Frank, like Alec, had been an Auror just like Professor Moody. He and his wife were tortured for information about Voldemort's whereabouts after he lost his powers, as you've both heard. Alec had thought throughfully all the consequences of _that_ night on Halloween: he made sure that both his family and his friends were safe. He went to a specifically place, one were all his ancestors had been safe before."

"The Arx's Cathedral," I breathed. Mr. Dumbledore nodded.

"Though it had been a rather brilliant plan, Alec had not count on Voldemort already knowing the place's location. Four of his followers had done the unthinkable to gain access of the knowledge for their Master to return."

"So they're dead?" Harry asked quietly.

"No," Dumbledore said, his voice full of a bitterness I had never heard there before. "That night, only Alec Barton had been murdered. The Longbottoms are insane. They are both in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. I believe Neville visits them, with his grandmother, during the holidays. They do not recognize him."

I closed my eyes tightly. It was worse. My sweet dear innocent friend, had he really suffered all of this? Were our paths going to be always intervened in the pain the Dark Lord had brought upon us?

"They were very popular," Dumbledore said. "The attacks on them came after Voldemort's fall from power, just when everyone thought they were safe. Those attacks caused a wave of fury such as I have never known. The Ministry was under great pressure to catch those who had done it. Unfortunately, the Longbottoms' evidence was - given their condition - none too reliable."

"Then Mr. Crouch's son might not have been involved?" Harry said slowly.

Dumbledore shook his head.

"As to that, I have no idea."

We sat in silence once more. The swirling contents on the Pensieve bringing a calmness I had not been able to feel today. It was a lot of information for my brain to process.

"Er," Harry started, "Mr. Bagman . .."

"... has never been accused of any Dark activity since," said Dumbledore calmly.

"Right," said Harry hastily, staring at the contents of the Pensieve again, which were swirling more slowly now that Dumbledore had stopped adding thoughts.

"And ... er ..."

But the Pensieve seemed to be asking his question for him. Snape's face was swimming on the surface again. Dumbledore glanced down into it, and then up at Harry.

"No more has Professor Snape," he said.

I looked into Dumbledore's light blue eyes.

"What made you think he'd really stopped supporting Voldemort, Professor?" Harry blurted out.

Mr. Dumbledore did not look away from my eyes. They held something - information about this. Delicate knowledge of why Snape can be a trustworthy man. And grudgingly, I myself, know that Severus Snape was an ally for us. A neutral one, that is.

The Headmaster looked at Harry then, and his gaze lingered on him as long as he had on me. "That, Harry, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself."

I knew then that the interview was over; Dumbledore did not look angry, yet there was a finality in his tone that told me it was time to go. I stood with Harry and Dumbledore pulled himself up as well.

"Harry, Anya," he called as we reached the door. My nickname had been forgotten by him, my name once more surfacing, just as reality did. "Please do not speak about Neville's parents to anybody else. He has the right to let people know, when he's ready."

"Yes, Professor," Harry said, while I nodded. We turned around.

"And -"

Harry and I looked back. Dumbledore was standing over the Pensieve, his face lit from beneath by its silvery spots of light, looking older than ever. He stared at us for a moment, and then said, "Good luck with the third task, Harry."

Harry nodded. And we both went through those doors, right to the present world.

* * *

We didn't return to class. I went right outside to the school grounds, walking somewhat in a dream state to our tree. My favorite place when I had been part of the 'Fantastic Four'.

I knew Harry had followed me. I didn't stop him. I didn't want to face reality yet. I wanted to be alone. Cry because Natasha knew what was happening to me and didn't think I was mature enough to know. Cry for Neville, whose parents lived on a constant hell, because he had not been on a normal childhood. For Harry, having to live with those awful relatives of his, not able to meet his parents and just have the memory of an album photograph. For me, to have lost a chance to live a semi-normal life with my father.

Dropping my bag, I threw myself down to the grass on a sitting position. I wrapped my arms around my legs, hiding my face on my knees.

Silent footsteps stopped in front of me, but I did not change my position. I heard him shuffle awkwardly around, and then he walked around me. Harry too, slowly took a seat behind myself.

I expected him to start asking about what had we seen, Why did I hid all of this from them? Why didn't I admit that Neville and I had a connection since that first DADA class? He should be shouting at me for not trusting, for not being honest like I had promised him at the end of our second year.

What he really did had shocked me.

Confidently, Harry leaned his back into mine. Startled, I had lifted my face a little and looked over my shoulder at him. He wasn't looking at me, but at the sky. It was a cerulean blue, with specks of orange and pink on them. The same one in which appeared on my dreams when I was in the Orphanage, when I wished for someone to come and get me from that dark whole.

Myself unsure of what this little response would do, I leaned my back on his too. Gently, he intertwined his fingers with mine. I held as tightly as I could. The message silently being exchanged between us.

The rest of the afternoon, we just spend gazing at the sky until the sun disappeared over the horizon.


	37. Two stories to tell

_Dear Natasha,_

_Does the world hate me? Is someone up there that thinks it's funny to mess up with my life? Isn't just enough I have to pass through the stage of puberty by myself? (Yes, I have those __bloody__ days now)._

_I am probably confusing you, so I will tell you what the problem is, since the very beginning. Might include some details._

_It started all in Third year. They were just a few strange dreams. Memories of my short instance with my parents. Then I dreamed about my father's murder. I know his assassin is Bellatrix Black. Or I suppose she __is__ a Black. Her appearance resembled too much my own and my mother's, even Tonks! I will tell you later how I found out this._

_But then, I started kind of… spacing. I first saw uncle Sirius, looking sorrowfully at what had happened with life. The second time was on my Divination exam: White masks surrounded a boy. And then I saw blue eyes… begging for mercy…_

_It didn't happen again. Until Tonks gave me a tiny crystal ball. I saw the same white masks, but now they were burning everything…_

_This happened on the World Cup._

_I thought all of this was just a crude coincidence. It couldn't be happening to me._

_It sort of started to drift me apart from Hermione, Harry and Ron. Harry and I had a slight dispute, and I ended spending my time with Neville – Neville Longbottom. Do you remember me talking about him? I hope so, because he has a lot to do with this._

_Either way, we later meet James Leopold. __Snort.__ Leopold, who names his kid like that? We are on the XX century! Sorry, carry on._

_Then I remembered something. Déjà vu, something like that. Alastor Moody is our DADA teacher this year, and he firstly insisted that we ought to know the Unforgivable Curses. __Literally__._

_It was just a spider, yet, that little show caused a lot of reactions. Mainly from me and Neville. Did you know my father was tortured because he wanted to protect me? Or that Neville's mother and his father suffered the worse because of a bunch of raving lunatics? A mere gossip may have reached your ears about that, but I quite assure it isn't something to think fondly of._

_Matters worsened when Harry was selected as a Champion. Ron and he had a huge row about it. The only god thing was that Harry and I were on talking terms again, but it didn't make the rift between us disappear. I ashamedly admit, I stopped confiding on Hermione like I used to._

_I somehow found comfort on James and Neville. James is a kind of strange bloke. You see – I think he's bipolar. When I first met him (I met him on the World Cup fiasco), he was kind of the 'brooding type'. Then he started acting friendly to us. Then he became snappier as we got to know him better. I can say, we both now resemble Ron and Hermione when we argue. But don't worry! Neville is always trying to play peacemaker with us, so his head is still intact._

_We had been helping Harry on the Tournament – incognito of course. I taught him how to manage a certain spell, currently we're on the Impedimenta one. Neville had been a great asset when it came on the Second task. You see, he found out gillyweed, and thanks to that, Harry got second place! Diggory won the first. And now James (whom had grumbled that he hadn't done anything useful at all), is helping Harry n his duelling techniques. Well, he more of attacks him on surprise when he isn't looking. Ron hadn't stopped laughing, and Hermione had downed her shrieks._

_Sorry, I kind of got carried. To the point._

_The dreams stopped. But, do you remember the box you sent me from the Orphanage? I found a drawing book in it. Did you ever saw me draw? I don't remember that particular notebook. What I mean to tell is that, there were drawings in there. All of them are about my life in Hogwarts, each single of them detailing all the things that had happened to me and my friends._

_Honestly, that's not the shocking part. There are some blank pages left – all wearing a pentagram. Drawings keep appearing slowly, and they're finished until the very moment happens._

_I witnessed Barty Crouch's death on a drawing. Isn't ironic when I had heard that destiny wasn't written on stone, but rather on page?_

_A few days ago, I was almost asleep on Divination class. I had spaced once more… but this time I saw Voldemort. Weak, on the verge of death, punishing Wormtail of a failure. What worries me is, Harry dreamed the same at the exact time as me. Except he had a rather abrupt response to it._

_We went to Mr. Dumbledore's office, as Sirius had said that if something like this happened, to quickly go and tell. He was there with the Minister and Moody, so he let us waiting on the office. Moments later, Harry found a strange basin not hidden well. I learned it was a Pensieve. But as I still didn't knew what it was, curiosity won over me and I touched its contents, dragging Harry with me. We faced three trials regarding Voldemort's followers. But the last one… I finally came face to face with her. His murderer. Did you ever meet this woman? Knew that there was a possibility she was going to kill my father and torture Neville's parents? I learned too, I was subjected to the Cruciatus Curse. I was going to demand you why there wasn't evidence of this, but then I remembered that Crucio only caused damage within the body. Or maybe there were scars and they just disappeared with time… I decided to not dwell much on it._

_I asked Mr. Dumbledore about it. He only said that he wasn't the appropriated person to tell me the truth. You are. And I need some answers._

_I am going to continue my tale as I let that last comment develop on your mind._

_Harry knows about this too. He kind of deserves to. He didn't react badly like I think he would, not even disappointed that I had failed to keep my promise to him about trust. It just added more to my guilt._

_I somehow relented to his will, and together we told Ron and Hermione everything. Even my dirty morbid secret of this. Ron had kind of gone to a catatonic state: we brought him back with some random garlic Harry found on Seamus Finnigan's bed. Hermione, on the other hand, had acted skeptical. Me, having the ability to tell the future? As if! _

_So I had to show them the Prediction book (that's how I called the drawing book), and to our horror, another page was set. It wasn't complete, meaning it had still not happened. It had a green dull color on the background. Grass, dead grass. And there was the beginning of color in the middle. It had the colors black and yellow. They didn't form any shape in particular, but I was sure time was up against us._

_Since then, the drift I had formed between them I myself slowly started to close. Ron and I, with James as referee, made contests of chess games and of food (whether be sweets or normal food). Neville stopped being kind of shy around, and shockingly, you can found him discussing with Hermione about Herbology. As for Harry, he has to deal with all of us. But he said he was satisfied. I asked him why. He only grabbed my shoulders and tuned me around, facing now the courtyard to _our_ tree._

_They were all there. Hermione was discussing with James the reason why she didn't play Quidditch, or argue reasoning as to why she doesn't use a flying broom. Ginny, whom had made a surprise visit to our group, was trying to persuade to her to let her teach her how to use one. It didn't help that James asked what could be the worse to try it._

_Neville and Ron were playing chess, completely ignoring the arguing that usually was made by Ron and Hermione. I knew that Neville learned how to play chess (courtesy of his grandmother), so he ended being the best adversary that Ron had found on Hogwarts grounds._

_I saw it. They were here. This was my family. The ones that always would be there, even against odds. I could rely on them, and they could rely on me. This was my team._

_The happiness I felt that moment was nothing else I could compare to. I am practically sure it was worthy to produce a strong Patronus._

_Later I found, Colin Creevey (Harry's eternal stalker) had taken a photo of that moment. Including Harry and I. he had taken two separate photos. One was of our entire group, the other of just the two of us. _

_A memento of my teenage life._

_I wish everything could be just like that, that the upcoming darkness was just a figment of a wild imagination. But reality is already knocking on the school's giant doors._

_And so I may ask again. What is really happening to me? My eyes had been feeling as if they were slowly burning, and more than one I had seen them change to an icy blue._

_Something serious is happening to me. And you're the only person that can answer my cries._

_It doesn't matter if you don't answer this letter quickly. I want you to tell me _everything_, and if that means I have to wait until I see you, then I'll wait._

_Love from a crazed teenager witch,  
Anya._

* * *

_James's POV_

Bloody hell, these weeks had been sort of strange for us. Firstly, we were just Bunny, Neville and me – occasionally Ginny (have you seen how alive her fiery hair looks. I can almost say I got burned from just seeing it!).

But it seems like there was this kind of discussion, agreement – or whatever it is, and the Golden Trio then was added to our little equation.

Please, don't misunderstand me. I may sound bitter, but that isn't the case. I'm just not used to a lot of people surrounding me, and actually _enjoying _to spend time with me.

When I first met Annie, it was sure one hell of a surprise. Maybe it was because she was running – _alone_ – from a blonde maniac on a dark _lonely_ forest. I was almost tempted to not do anything at all; I enjoyed watching how the situation had an uncanny similarity to a Muggle Horror movie. But there was this tiny part of me that ordered, _begged_ me, to not let him hurt the little dame in distress.

And there was this pull to her. I couldn't let her go at all. A tiny little nagging voice on my mind yelled at me, _IDIOT! You should know her! _But from where, I ask. With the possibility of find this out, I offered to carry her to whatever her family was. Infuriatingly, I hadn't seen her face at all, and I already wanted to protect her! How cliché of me.

I asked her how she ended alone on the woods. The girl only said she was separated from her friends. I assumed she was only here on an invitation; after all there wasn't enough World Cups to often assist. Just one very fifty or was it a hundred, years. Amusedly, she said Voldemort's name with confidence. Something I noticed every wizard on this continent lacked off. With a little too confidence, she asked my name. I didn't tell her. Karkaroff later would found out and then the punishment was going to embarrass me in the eyes of my classmates. I didn't need their pity.

The girl then mentioned her name. Anya Barton.

These single words changed everything on me.

I'm not going to tell you how deep the change was. Don't worry; I am planning to mention it once we met face to face. I don't think is properly to write this, seeing as it is something dearly important to me.

When we arrived to her campsite, I met her friends. I was sure they weren't her family at all. Almost every single person I saw had ginger hair. Except for a girl with extremely bushy brown hair and that boy with the untamable coal hair, and green eyes. There was no necessity to ask his name: like every wizard in the Wizarding World, I knew at first sight that he was Harry Potter. The boy who lived.

Then I saw her. The most beautiful girl I had ever encountered. Her big brown eyes were taking on the scene. Her unruly red hair – a shade darker than that of her family – was held on a messy bun in one side of her head. The moment her eyes met my unusual ones… I knew she was the one.

Is possible to feel like you have met your soul mate at such a young age? Because I felt everything that mattered was her.

My feelings in that moment clouded my decision to not tell my name. I partly said the truth. Leo is half of one of my names. Even the dumbness I got from my new found fancy wouldn't let me forget my wariness.

I knew all of them attended Hogwarts, but I did not let my hopes of seeing them soon to get up to my mind. I already know to not expect much of life. And yet, the first person I saw again was her.

Dear Anya was chatting about Beauxbatons' choice of garments, and I couldn't help but agree with her. She was surprised to see me too; Anya clearly didn't expect this meeting at all. Yet, I knew it was written on the stars for us to always found each other.

Perhaps you wonder how I knew it was her if I hadn't seen her well on the dark. The pull I mentioned before – it was yelling at me to go towards her. It was as if my body already was aware of her presence. But we both know it was my magic that reacted that way.

I almost gazed hungrily at her appearance. She wasn't tall, only smaller than the Potter boy. I am sure as you, that she will grow up later, just like her mother did. Her hair was a wavy shade of dark brown, yet, when lights hit it directly, it looked a sandy shade of colour. Is it possible for her to be a Metamorphmagus? It shocked me more the colour of her eyes. Wasn't the Barton family supposed to not have the same eye colour? Because if I remember correctly, her father's eyes were hazel with green and gold specks in them. It shouldn't be possible for the daughter to have the very exact colour.

Then again, this is Bunny I am talking about. Nothing is normal in her life.

So basic appearance: smaller, dark brown hair that likes to change unwillingly of colour, hazel changing eyes, heart shaped face, tiny nose, slightly tanned skin. The normal.

Annie then presented me her friends. Neville Longbottom was a shy bloke. The shyest I had ever met. I wasn't used to this nature, as everyone on Durmstrang has a cocky attitude, including myself. But he's the easiest to talk to: his quiet presence just demonstrates how observant he really is, the perfect counselor for maniacs like me. Or more likely, when Annie and I fought. Did you knew he got a bat designed for us, just in case? I'm certainly not going to tell you how he does that.

The bushy haired girl was Hermione Granger. From what I gathered, she is Annie's best mate since they started their first year here. But I don't think so. They weren't together much, they talked yes, but there wasn't enough trust between them to actually be the best of friends. Or maybe they were and my sight is just failing. Hermione was smart. Ravenclaw type intelligence. But I think it was her bravery to stand up for her own ideas that sent her to Gryffindor.

Ron Weasley was one of the many red haired boys I saw on the campsite. At first, I didn't like him. I mean – he must be nuts if he likes Krum! But Annie somehow could relate with this boy. The feeling of not being enough for their friends. Just for her, I tried to talk properly to him. And what I found wasn't bad. We both liked sweets, we both were Quidditch fans, and he knew how to play chess. Unfortunately, I ended smashed by him. Yep, I could relate to him in a certain way. And it wasn't because of his sister. I swear!

Talking about his sister, I finally found out her name. Ginevra Weasley. Seeing as I was almost thinking illogically around her, the name suits hers. Somehow (and I make sure of it), I found many ways to spend time with her. Sometimes, she stays here on Hogsmeade visits and we talk about random things. She is funny, caring… not to forget her sense of humor! She helped me to get Billy the Bunny for Annie (don't tell her!) And she is a Chaser! Well, not exactly. She would like to play for Chaser on the Gryffindor team, but Ginny thinks she's not good enough. _Bollocks!_ I always say to her. Chasers somehow appeal to me, even if I am a Beater at Durmstrang.

Now that we had established how much obsessed I am, lets continued with the last person.

Harry Potter, the boy who lived… I never thought I would have the chance to meet him, and if I hadn't, I would still think that he was an asshole. You know, being famous and all. Even if Uncle had told me that Potter wasn't like that, I didn't believe him.

Thank the Lord _he_ was right.

When Annie presented him, I saw a flicker of anger on her eyes. Harry actually seemed ashamed of something. He looked at her, and I saw this tiny little hidden flicker of _want_.

But of course, I squashed that thought away.

That didn't mean I didn't keep a watch on them. Call me nut or something, but I have developed a great affection to Annie. The need to protect her was strong, and I knew those feelings Uncle described once were beginning to rise.

As the official 'Big Brother', I kept an eye on Potter. Mainly his interactions with Bunny. Angry at each other, they are nothing. Complete strangers in fact.

When not… I do not know how to exactly call it. There was the time when they announced Harry as a Champion. She clearly told him before anyone that she believed him. He didn't put his name on the Goblet of Fire. I did too, because Potter isn't smart enough to figure how to actually do it.

Annie was rather stubborn when it came to help him. I mean – she helped him to learn the Summoning spell in one day short. Then later made us search the entire damned library for something that could help him breathe in the Lake. And now, I am helping him with surprise attacks. Well, that part is actually funny – Ron agrees with me.

Then the relationship between them changed once a dear Yule Ball came.

Have you ever felt the agonizing jealousy that consumes your body when you see the person you most like with another one? Because that's what these two feel.

Cho Chang is a Ravenclaw fifth year, and she's dating Cedric Diggory – the other Hogwarts Champion. But Harry's heart doesn't accept that. You see, he fancies her. And I pushed him a little on _that_ way.

At that time, I didn't know Annie fancied him. Actually, I am positive she didn't knew herself. Trying to get it out of her (her actions were starting to annoy me); I confronted her rather rudely when we searched for something for the second task. Bunny denied it, but her eyes cried out for the truth.

Maybe you should advise her when it comes to these "girl" problems. I want to help her, but I don't have the sensibility to talk about it without making a drama of it.

But then I noticed the looks Potter gave us when we were together without Neville. Harry's usually calm expression turns into one of confusion –like if wanting to find why we hang out together –, then it becomes anger – I am still trying to find out that one -, and finally his gaze always crosses with mine, Harry adopts a neutral expression, returning to talk to Ron.

Now now, I think there's this animosity between us because of how he really feels. Dear, you see, I have a theory. The most logical one.

Harry is used to have Anya as a part of his group. They fight, okay, and then reconcile, and ta-da! They are friends. But the last time they fought, I think it hit rather hard on Bunny's ego. Hence why she spend time with only Neville.

Then I came along.

Maybe it was because we fight a lot too, then we return like if like nothing had happened. Harry doesn't like that.

Do I say the hastiest theory?

Harry has always like Annie but doesn't admit it, and now the git is jealous because she's spending time with me and Neville and NOT him!

Sorry, I think I changed the subject. Back to the present!

After this agreement, our two small groups united and now we help Harry with what we can.

So this is the short story of my life in Hogwarts. Interesting isn't?

This is a very nice change of scenery. I think I am going to do it sooner again.

Hope this letter isn't a nuisance to you,  
James B. Leopold

* * *

"Oi, James."

I looked up from the thick envelope. Ron was walking towards the table I sat right now. His face set on in annoyance.

"Hermione?" I stated, not asked. The ginger nodded. Holding my chuckles, I carefully hid the letter inside my robes.

"Yes. She's worried about our exams and wanted you to help Harry with the Impedimenta," he told me as he took a seat, disgruntled.

"Isn't that Bunny's job?"

"Neville is tutoring her in Herbology," ah! That explains it all. Herbology was the only class in which Bunny didn't work well, unless Neville teaches her beforehand.

"'Kay then," I stood up, craning my neck to the sides. I head some girls giggling behind us. I didn't need to turn around to know they were stalking me. That's the usual. "Let's get going before Hermione comes for our heads."


	38. Third Task

_Anya's POV_

During the next weeks, I have alternating between two things: helping Harry and studies.

God, my life was so screwed I forgot I still had to do the exams.

Fortunately, I had read about trolls in one of the books Tonks had rarely found in Wiccan Manor, so History of Magic wasn't that of a problem. In fact, the only subject I was failing miserably was Herbology. In exchange, I had to tutor Neville on Potions, Charms and Transfiguration (believe me, I am the worst student on Herbology you may have ever met, so this is fair) and he would help me on Herbology.

Because James had a lot of free time, he now helped Harry full-time while Hermione, Ron, Neville and I study. Even Ginny comes once in a while to help those poor lonely boys. I think she wants them to see them fight.

Harry had asked if we had time for study, but Hermione reassured him that while we help him with hexes, we'll get top marks on DADA. Ron said it was a good training for when we are all Aurors. Neville just said he was glad to help, and James added he had nothing to do.

The mood in the castle as we entered June became excited and tense again. Everyone was looking forward to the third task, which would take place a week before the end of term. Harry seemed to be more confident on this final task, as Moody had one told him if he had got to the Sorcerer's Stone and the Chamber of Secrets this should be no problem.

But as the day approached, I felt that something wasn't right. Call it intuition or something, but I had a bad feeling about this. The last drawing that had appeared on the Premonition book now had one black and yellow square. I still don't know what it is, and I am terrified of what it could be.

Having walked on us six times on the same day, Professor McGonagall had given us permission to use the empty Transfiguration classroom at lunchtimes. Harry had soon mastered the Impediment Curse, a spell to slow down and obstruct attackers; the Reductor Curse, that could blast solid objects out of the way; and the Four-Point spell, a useful discovery of Hermione's that would point your wand due north. Harry was having trouble with the Shield Charm, though. It was supposed to cast a temporary, invisible wall between the caster and the attacker, and it deflected minor curses.

Harry, as much as he tried, couldn't perform a perfect shielding charm. Hermione managed to shatter it with a well-placed Jelly-Legs Jinx, and I had to help Harry wobble over to a chair to wait for ten minutes afterward before Hermione had looked up the counter-jinx.

"The Shielding Charm is for protection," I was saying as Hermione countered the jinx. "not only for yourself, but those you want to keep from harm. Think of it as a wall that interposes between yourself and the upcoming spell. Imagine it as a window: you can see what it happens, but at the same time you know it can't touch you. You'll be just a watcher."

Harry nodded. He was taking seriously my explanations. There were times when I wasn't sure if he truly understood my "speeches" when it came to spells. Perhaps he did, or maybe not. Either way he managed always to do it well.

"Oi," said James, who was standing by the window. He was staring down onto the grounds. "Isn't that Draco Malfoy?"

Harry, Hermione, and I went to see, Ron and Neville already there.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were standing in the shadow of a tree below. Crabbe and Goyle seemed to be keeping a lookout; both were smirking. Malfoy was holding his hand up to his mouth and speaking into it.

"He looks like he's using a walkie-talkie," Harry said curiously.

"What's a walkie-talkie?" Neville asked curiously.

"An electronic object that permits to communicate with other person that has a walkie-talkie too," James said. I stared at him in amazement. How did he even know that?

"He can't be," Hermione said. "I've already told you, Muggle technology can't work in Hogwarts."

Ron shook his head. "That bloke's always been weirder than us."

"You're still doing really well though, Harry," Hermione said, returning to the matter at hands. She read the list with all the curses and hexes we made in the library. "Most of these are bound to come in handy. But just in case, let's try that Shield Charm again. James?"

Said boy smirked. Oh, Harry was going to have a long day.

* * *

Sirius was sending daily letters now. He too, like Hermione, seemed to want to only concentrate on getting Harry through the last task before we even concentrated on anything else. He reminded us in every letter that whatever was going on outside the castle walls was not our responsibility.

_If Voldemort really is getting stronger again,_ Sirius wrote, _my priority is to ensure yours and Anne's safety. He cannot hope to lay on either of you while you are under Dumbledore's protection, but all the same, take no risks. Harry, concentrate on getting through the maze safely, and then we can turn our attention to other matters._

Breakfast was a very noisy affair at the Gryffindor table on the morning of the third task. The post owls appeared, bringing Harry a good-luck card from Sirius. It was only a piece of parchment, folded over and bearing a muddy paw print on its front, but he appreciated it all the same. A screech owl arrived for Hermione, carrying her morning copy of the _Daily Prophet_ as usual. She unfolded the paper, glanced at the front page, and spat out a mouthful of pumpkin juice all over it. At least it didn't fell on my robes.

"What is it?" we all asked.

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly, trying to shove the paper out of sight, but Ron grabbed it. He stared at the headline and said, "No way. Not today. That old _cow_."

"What?" Harry asked. "Rita Skeeter again?"

"No," Ron said, and just like Hermione, he attempted to push the paper out of sight, but then James caught it and started to read. The more he finished a line, a dark look passed through his face.

"They're just plain idiots," he muttered darkly.

"It's about me, isn't it?" Harry said defeated.

"No," Ron said, in an entirely unconvincing tone. But before Harry could demand to see the paper. Draco Malfoy shouted across the Great Hall from the Slytherintable.

"Hey, Potter! Potter! How's your head? You feeling all right? Sure you're not going to go berserk on us?"

Malfoy was holding a copy of the Daily Prophet too. Slytherins up and down the table were sniggering, twisting in their seats to see Harry's reaction.

Rolling his eyes, he gave Harry the Prophet. As both Neville and I were on the same bench, we looked over his shoulder.

**_"HARRY POTTER "DISTURBED AND DANGEROUS"_**

_The boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is unstable and possibly dangerous, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. Alarming evidence has recently come to light about Harry Potter's strange behavior, which casts doubts upon his suitability to compete in a demanding competition like the Triwizard Tournament, or even to attend Hogwarts School. _

_Potter, the Daily Prophet can exclusively reveal, regularly collapses at school, and is often heard to complain of pain in the scar on his forehead (relic of the curse with which You-Know-Who attempted to kill him). On Monday last, midway through a Divination lesson, your Daily Prophet reporter witnessed Potter storming from the class, claiming that his scar was hurting too badly to continue studying._

_It is possible, say top experts at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, that Potters brain was affected by the attack inflicted upon him by YouKnow-Who, and that his insistence that the scar is still hurting is an expression of his deep-seated confusion._

_"He might even be pretending," said one specialist. "This could be a plea for attention."_

_The Daily Prophet, however, has unearthed worrying facts about Harry Potter that Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, has carefully concealed from the wizarding public._

_"Potter can speak Parseltongue," reveals Draco Malfoy, a Hogwarts fourth year. "There were a lot of attacks on students a couple of years ago, and most people thought Potter was behind them after they saw him lose his temper at a dueling club and set a snake on another boy. It was all hushed up, though. But he's made friends with werewolves and giants too. We think he'd do anything for a bit of power."_

_Parseltongue, the ability to converse with snakes, has long been considered a Dark Art. Indeed, the most famous Parselmouth of our times is none other than YouKnow-Who himself. A member of the Dark Force Defense League, who wished to remain unnamed, stated that he would regard any wizard who could speak Parseltongue "as worthy of investigation. Personally, I would be highly suspicious of anybody who could converse with snakes, as serpents are often used in the worst kinds of Dark Magic, and are historically associated with evildoers."_

_Similarly, "anyone who seeks out the company of such vicious creatures as werewolves and giants would appear to have a fondness for violence."_

_Albus Dumbledore should surely consider whether a boy such as this should be allowed to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. Some fear that Potter might resort to the Dark Arts in his desperation to win the tournament, the third task of which takes place this evening._

"Gone off me a bit, hasn't she?" said Harry lightly, folding up the paper.

At the Slytherin table across the hall, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were laughing at us, tapping their heads with their fingers, pulling grotesquely mad faces, and waggling their tongues like they were snakes.

From down the table, Ginny pulled out her wand and pointed at the lot. She muttered something and then, the idiots started running in circles, waving their arms around, trying to get rid of boogies.

I chuckled. Following my sight-line, James began to laugh loudly at the sight.

"How did she know your scar hurt in Divination?" Neville asked ignoring him. "There's no way she was there, there's no way she could've heard -"

"The windows was open," Harry said. "I opened it to breathe."

"You were at the top of the North Tower!" Hermione exclaimed. "Your voice couldn't have carried all the way down to the grounds!"

"Well, you're the one who's supposed to be researching magical methods of bugging!" said Harry. "You tell me how she did it!"

"I've been trying!" said Hermione. "But I... but. . ."

A sudden odd, dreamy expression came over Hermione's features. Slowly, she raised a hand and ran her fingers through her hair. I frowned.

"Are you alright?" I asked warily.

"Yes, of course," Hermione said rather breathlessly. She ran her fingers through her hair again, and then looked over to her side, where James was stifling his laugh with one hand on his mouth. She leaned closely to him, almost scaring him to death.

"Oi, what are you doing?" he asked cautiously, his voice muffled by his hand. Hermione kept staring at him with the same dreamy expression, and raised her hand to her mouth to imitate him.

"Hermione…?" Neville called now preoccupied.

"I just had an idea," Hermione said, never looking away from James, the frozen boy. "I think I know how...because no one would have been able to see...even Moody...and she'd have been able to get onto the window ledge...even though she's not allowed...she's _definitely_ not allowed...I think we've finally got her! I just need two seconds in the library, just to be sure!"

Without another word, Hermione seized her school bag and dashed out of the Great Hall.

"Oi!" Ron called after her. "We've got our History of Magic exam in about tent minutes! Blimey..." he said, turning back to us, "she has to really hate Rita Skeeter if she's willing to risk missing the start of an exam. What're you going to do in Binns's class – read again?"

"S'pose so," Harry said.

"If I were you, I would look out for more hexes," James said, returning back from his stupefied state.

Professor McGonagall came walking alongside the Gryffindor table toward him.

"Potter, the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast," she said.

"But the task's not till tonight!" said Harry, accidentally spilling scrambled eggs down his front. I stifled a laugh with my fist.

"I am aware of that, Potter," McGonagall said. "But the champions families are arriving to watch the final task. This is just a chance for you to meet them, and spend the day with them."

She moved away. Harry stared blankly after her.

"Does she really expect the Dursleys to turn up?" Harry asked us rather blankly.

"Dunno," Ron, James and I said. My god, I think I rubbed on them too!

Neville then grabbed my wrist-watch.

"We'll have to see you later Harry. We have to hurry or we will be going to be late for Binns' test."

After a quick goodbye to Harry and James, we set off running away from the Great Hall.

* * *

It hadn't been difficult, but it was one of the most frustrating tests we had done. I mean, how the hell do I know Rocko the Troll's history before the war?

Terrifyingly enough, Hermione had been smiling through all the hour. She had this maniac glint on her Cheshire smile when we separated to go to the Great Hall. I actually was too scared of her that I didn't ask what she had between her hands.

"Mum - Bill?" Ron looked stunned as we joined the Gryffindor table. Mrs. Weasley and her eldest son, Bill, were talking quietly with Harry. "What're you two doing here?"

"We've come to watch Harry in the last task!" Mrs. Weasley said brightly. "I must say, it makes a lovely change, not having to cook. How was your exam?"

"Oh...um, okay," Ron said. "I couldn't remember all the goblin rebels' names, though, so I just invented a few. It's all right," he said, seeing his mother's stern look as he helped himself to a Cornish pasty, "they're all usually called stuff like Bodrod the Bearded and Urg the unclean; it wasn't too hard."

"Say it for yourself," I told him as I sat beside him. "Tell me, who was Rocko the Troll? Because I am pretty sure that name doesn't even exist on the books!"

Mrs. Weasley pursued her lips at the sight of me, but didn't say anything. In fact, she didn't look at me directly, neither gave me a word.

I frowned sadly at her. She believed what Skeeter had said?

Then if she did, how do I know I can trust anyone?

James then appeared with Fred, George, and Ginny. Particularly talking with Ginny, but I was more worried that he was in the presence of the twins. I just hope he didn't do anything. When he presented to Mrs. Weasley, for a moment, she stared at him then directed her hard gaze towards me. Never had I felt ashamed on my life, but this particular moment, even if it wasn't my fault, was one of them. Since then, she didn't direct a word to us, but I didn't pay much attention to that. I talked animatedly with Neville and Ginny, while James and Bill talked about his job on Gringotts. The twins were making a joke here and there about the third task.

Still with a heavy feeling on my chest, I enjoyed we all acted like a family.

Later, Hermione arrived looking satisfied.

"Are you going to tell us - ?"

Hermione shook her head to stop him as she glanced nervously at Mrs. Weasley, whom was glaring at her. I could practically feel her looks she gave me on the corner of her eye.

"Hello, Hermione," greeted stiffly Mrs. Weasley.

"Hello," Hermione said, smile faltering at the cold look Mrs. Weasley was wearing.

Harry looked between the two before he spoke, "Mrs. Weasley, you don't believe that rubbish written in _Witch Weekly_ by Rita Skeeter, do you? Because Hermione isn't my girlfriend and neither is Annie."

"Oh?" Mrs. Weasley said, relaxing. "No - of course I didn't!"

It mean she did. But after that, she warmed with us and James.

"So, tell me Annie," asked cheerfully Mrs. Weasley. "Are you and James dating?"

James spited out the pumpkin juice Neville finally had smudged him to drink. I could feel myself turning beat red when all the stares went directly at me. It didn't help when Neville started to laugh joyfully.

We certainly were an odd equation.

We had a hard time convincing Mrs. Weasley that we were not dating, and that I wasn't interested at all in dating any boy (except maybe one green eyed one), conversation who just lead to a very awkward talk about my 'preferences'.

Second time I felt so embarrassed on my life.

I'm not sure why, but I had my bag with me all the time. The Prediction had become something as a heavy thought for my conscious. I had the feeling I needed to have it at hand right away. But the shivers of warning that kept appearing on my body just made everything awful.

Evening feast was fast ending, and Mr. Dumbledore stood up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, in five minutes' time, I will ask you all to make your way down to the Quidditch field for the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Now, will the champions please follow Mr. Bagman down to the stadium."

Harry got up along with the rest of the Champions. The Weasleys, Hermione, Neville and James wished him good luck, but I held him back a little more.

"Don't forget it, use Protego and Expelliarmus until the end," I told him grimly, and before he fully registered it, I gave him a small kiss on his lips and pushed him to the back door. Cedric winked at me and closed the door.

I blushed furiously as all our friends raised their eyebrows at me, clearly surprised of my actions.

I was embarrassed for the third time this day. But don't people say that the third time's the charm?

After that small display, we all prepared and went down to the Quidditch pitch. It wasn't until I sat on the Gryffindor stands that I noticed the field had been transformed into a maze.

"Amazing!" I breathed.

"Don't doubt it," said James as he sat behind me, Ginny and Ron on each side.

"Thought you would be rooting for Krum?" Neville said as he stared at the stands were the Slytherins sat. Malfoy and his apes carried a large banner with Krum's name on it.

"I thought _what the hell_!" he said. We all laughed, even Hermione.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Bagman's voice loomed over the stands. "The third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each—Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts school!"

I screamed loudly and cheered with the rest when Harry's name was mentioned.

"In second place, with eighty points—Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute! And in third place—Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!"

Wild cheers from the Ravenclaw and Slytherin stands were heard.

"So...on my whistle, Harry and Cedric!" Bagman roared. "Three—two—one-"

Bagman blew the whistle.

The burning feeling of my eyes returned the moment Harry and Cedric sprinted into the Maze.


	39. Through your Eyes

Everything I had become attached to this world no longer held me on my place. I was aware of Ginny shouting my name: her voice drowned by the thousands of cheers the students gave for the rest of the champions.

But I could no longer see the table where the judges sat. Instead, two narrow thick walls of bushes surrounded me. There was just one path.

I was walking. I _saw_ myself walking. But I knew I hadn't move from my seat. Neville's persistent shakes on my arm were a sure sign that I still was on the Quidditch pitch with the Weasleys, Hermione, James and him. But where I was?

After when it looked I had walked fifty yards, I found myself staring at to a fork in the path. I looked to my right side and –

I was staring at Cedric Diggory's handsome face.

I immediately understood just as I had with the Prediction book.

I don't know how, but I was seeing through Harry's eyes. Holding back a gasp, I blindly looked to my – _the real_ – left side, and said to Neville, "I'm fine. Just a little dizzy."

"Are you sure, Annie?" A second whistle meant Viktor Krum had just entered through the maze.

"Yes, don't worry," _because I am about to freak out_.

The path Harry had chosen was completely deserted. We turned right, and hurried on, the light of a possible Lumos Charm shining from above us. There was still nothing in sight.

A third and final whistle blew down where I sat. All the champions were inside the maze. And apparently, so_ **I**_was.

Harry kept looking back, as if he knew I was watching every move he made. I wanted to tell him he could trust me, I could be his undercover eyes – but no ears, because I could still hear everything that was happening on with the rest of the students.

The sky overhead us was already a deep blue navy when we reached a second fork. Harry glanced down, and I saw his wand lying flat on his palm. The wand spun around and pointed to our right, into solid hedge. He suddenly took left, and I was sure he would pick right again, up to northwest.

The path ahead us was empty too, and surprisingly, when Harry took the right turn, his way was unblocked.

"What are they doing?" Ginny wondered behind.

"Don't know, but I think they are taking their time far too long," said James with a sigh. I bit one side of my cheek to keep me from blurting out what was just happening with Harry. I don't want them to think I was going coo-coo or that I somehow had been possessed by a ghost.

Back to Harry himself, we both turned around quickly, the light of his wand beam falling upon Cedric, who had just hurried out of a path on the right-hand side. Cedric looked severely shaken. The sleeve of his robe was smoking. I saw him hiss something and then, he dived out of sight.

We hurried off again. Then as we turned the corner, we saw ... a dementor gliding toward us. Twelve feet tall, its face hidden by its hood, its rotting, scabbed hands outstretched, it advanced, sensing its way blindly toward Harry.

So suddenly, an image about Harry, Hermione, Ron and I rose through the depth of his eyes. We all were celebrating his success on the TriWizard Tournament. And then I saw myself… with the strangest look on my face. Oh god, was that a dopey expression? NO! It was different, I could tell. It was more than just an admiring or proud look. It was –

The dementor returned, and I saw a stag erupt form the tip of Harry's wand. The stag galloped toward the dementor, which fell back and tripped over the hem of its robes… Do dementors even stumble?

Clearly discovering what it was, Harry pointed his wand more confidently to the dementor, which it exploded in a wisp of smoke. A Boggart.

We continued. Left ... right... left again…Twice we faced dead ends. He did the Four-Point Spell again and found that he was going too far east. He turned back, took a right turn, and we saw an odd golden mist floating ahead of us.

"Annie?" James' voice rose.

"Yeah?" I asked him distractedly, Harry had just shot a _Reducto_ through the mist, which it did nothing but just passed through it.

"I'm bored." Harry suddenly started looking around him worriedly.

"Then go over a three and hit yourself three times."

"Annie!" Mrs. Weasley scolded. Harry in that exact moment ran through the mist.

"Don't worry Mum, we're already used to this," Ron said.

"What?" gasped the Weasley matron. I bit my lip hard when the world suddenly turned upside down. What did Harry just got into?

"It's like a need for them to play like this," said Neville unmuted. Below us the dark, star-spangled heavens stretched endlessly.

_Use your feet, do something! _I felt the blood pounding behind my ears. And I was supposed to just be a watcher! Well, Harry _had_ closed his eyes, so I wasn't looking at nothing but pure black darkness.

Immediately, the world righted itself. I saw the grass, and quickly Harry stood up. We looked over at the mist twinkling innocently in the moonlight, running away from it.

He paused at a junction of two paths and looked around once more. What was Harry looking for? It didn't seem he was looking for the Cup at all. He took the right fork.

A new image appeared on my sight. It was Harry himself, raising the TriWizard cup in front of all the schools…

The image disappeared.

I think I see everything Harry sees… and that includes his fantasies, right now…

Ten minutes passed without incident and we kept meeting dead end after dead end. Harry took the wrong turns twice and then, finally, we found ourselves a new route and he jogged along it, his wandlight waving, making his shadow flicker and distort on the hedge walls.

Then he rounded another corner and I was staring right to a Blast-Ended Skrewt.

It was enormous. Ten feet long, it looked more like a giant scorpion than anything. Its long sting was curled over its back. Its thick armor glinted in the light from Harry's wand, which he pointed at it.

The stupefy spell hit the skrewt's armor and rebounded; Harry ducked just in time. A blast of fire issued from the skrewt's end and it flew toward us. Another spell hit the skrewt's armor again and ricocheted off; Harry staggered back a few paces and fell over. I blinked in the real world.

The skrewt stopped just inches from us – and it froze. Harry had successfully managed the Impedimenta spell on the beast. But we both knew it wouldn't last long. I saw myself pushing me up from the ground and ran away.

Harry took a left path and hit a dead end, a right, and hit another; forcing himself to stop and perform what I now recognized to be the Four-Point Spell, backtracked, and chose a path that would take him northwest.

He had been hurrying along the new path for a few minutes and then, Harry stopped dead. Dread started to form in the hollow of my chest.

Horrified, I – no, _we_ – began sprinting up our path. Seeing as he not found what he was looking for, Harry shot the Reductor Curse in one of the nearest walls, creating a small hole in the hedge. Forcing his leg through it, kicking at the thick brambles and branches until they broke and made an opening; he struggled through it, tearing his robes, and looking to his right, we saw Cedric jerking and twitching on the ground, Krum standing over him.

I gasped.

"What?" Hermione asked. I hastily shook my head.

"Nothing!"

"Dear god, doesn't someone have a deck of cards or something?" James groaned. Silence was what he met. I think he forgot wizards don't know what Poker is.

Harry pointed his to Krum: he turned around to run for it but the spell hit his back. Krum stopped dead in his tracks, fell forward, and lay motionless, face down in the grass

We dashed over Cedric, who had stopped twitching and was lying there panting, his hands over his face.

_Was he alright?_ I wondered as Harry grabbed his arm. Panting, Cedric answered and stood up. Still shaking, he looked down at Krum, Harry – _us_ – following.

I felt they were discussing what to do with Krum, and a moment later Cedric raised hi wand and –

"Look!" Ginny gasped.

"Red sparks? Was it Harry? Is he alright?" ranted Hermione.

"He is," I said confidently. Again, I felt their eyes on me, but they let it aside.

Harry and Cedric didn't talk again. Harry turned left and Cedric right. Harry moved on, continuing to use the Four-Point Spell, making sure he was moving in the right direction. It was between him and Cedric now.

"It's Fleur and Krum," I heard Bill comment from where he sat with Mrs. Weasley.

"Is he alright?" Hermione asked worried. Ron grunted something, but it was lost in the voice of Bagman's cheers.

"Only two champions left!" his voice boomed. "The victory is official for Hogwarts! The question is who will win? Cedric Diggory –" there were loud cheers from the Hufflepuffs and some Slytherins. "– or Harry Potter?!"

The cheer was deafening. Harry often hit more dead ends. Then, as he strode down a long, straight path, he saw movement once again, and his beam of wandlight hit an extraordinary creature, one which we had only seen in picture form, in our _Monster Book of Monsters_ and on my _Discovery of Witches_ copy.

It was a sphinx. It had the body of an over-large lion: great clawed paws and a long yellowish tail ending in a brown tuft. Its head, however, was that of a woman. She turned her long, almond-shaped eyes upon us as Harry approached. He raised his wand, hesitating. She was not crouching as if to spring, but pacing from side to side of the path, blocking his progress. Then she spoke.

I could not hear what she said, but from what I could form from her lips was the word 'riddle'.

I almost groaned. I was never good at those, let alone _Harry_.

The sphinx started to mouth a long riddle I could not hear. She repeated it three more times, each of them making her smile widen – until it came to the point the Sphinx was already grinning broadly. . She got up, stretched her front legs, and then moved aside for him to pass.

I gaped. He did it!

Harry dashed forward, breaking into a run, choosing a path ahead. He did the Four-Point Spell again: it spun around and pointed him to the right-hand one. He dashed up this one and I saw light ahead.

The Triwizard Cup was gleaming on a plinth a hundred yards away. Suddenly a dark figure hurtled out onto the path in front of him.

Cedric was going to get there first. Cedric was sprinting as fast as he could toward the cup.

Then Harry saw something immense over a hedge to his left, moving quickly along a path that intersected with his own; it was moving so fast Cedric was about to run into it, and Cedric, his eyes on the cup, had not seen it -

Cedric looked around just in time to hurl himself past the thing and avoid colliding with it, but in his haste, he tripped. I saw Cedric's wand fly out of his hand as a –

I yelped.

"Annie, what now?" James said. A grunt followed his statement. "Blimey Ginny! I was only joking!"

"That's no way for you to whine like an old man," she countered. "But really Annie. What was it?"

"I – I just thought I saw a pider," I stammered. The hell I was seeing one! It was almost as big as Hagrid! The **_gigantic spider_** stepped into the path and began to bear down upon Cedric.

"SPIDER?!" Ron exclaimed. I could hear the twins sniggering somewhere, but a cough from Mrs. Weasley shut them. But still, Bill managed to let out a few chuckles. _"Where?!"_  
Ron whispered horrified.

A spell hit the spider's gigantic, hairy black body, but for all the good it did, Harry might as well have thrown a stone at it; the spider jerked, scuttled around, and ran at Harry – forget that! **_US!_** - instead.

"NO! Nowhere!" I laughed nervously. "Like I said – I thought I saw one."

Neville hummed beside me. "I thought your fear for them had already disappeared?"

Three more spells hit the spider again, but it was no use - the spider was either so large, or so magical, that the spells were doing no more than aggravating it. I had one horrifying glimpse of eight shining black eyes and razor-sharp pincers before it was upon Harry.

I could see the ground as I – Harry – was lifted into the air in its front legs; we both struggled. Harry, for his freedom; me? Trying to not run off blindly because I still haven't overtaken my fear of spiders!

Harry's leg connected with the spider's pincers, and wildly, I caught a glimpse. Harry's leg was slowly starting to bleed.

I covered my mouth with both hands, my body stiffly sat as I waited for the next action.

Harry raised his wand as the spider opened its pincers once more and a spell casted from his wand.

It worked - the Disarming Spell made the spider drop him, but that meant that Harry fell twelve feet onto his already injured leg, which crumpled beneath him. Without pausing to think, he aimed high at the spider's underbelly, as he had done with the skrewt, and shouted another spell – combined with that of Cedric's – which it made The spider keel over sideways, flattening a nearby hedge, and strewing the path with a tangle of hairy legs.

I was sure I wasn't easily going to forget this.

Harry looked down at his leg. It was bleeding freely. I could see some sort of thick, gluey secretion from the spider's pincers on his torn robes. He tried to get up, but his leg was shaking so badly he ended stumbling on the ground. He leaned against the hedge, and looked around.

Cedric was standing feet from the TriWizard Cup, which was gleaming behind him. He wasn't moving, just merely staring at Harry – and me, for that case. Then he turned to stare at the cup. I could see the longing expression on his face in its golden light. Once more, Cedric turned to Harry and said something.

Harry must have said something because Cedric then moved nearer to the ugly giant stunned spider, away from the cup, all the while shaking his head. I could keep reading his lips saying No and No many times. He stepped over the spider's tangled legs to join Harry, we stared at him. Cedric was serious.

And I think he was walking away. He was resigning from the glory the Hufflepuff House hadn't had in centuries. This boy seriously was the most mindset I had ever met – seen. I admired Cedric Diggory for what he was: a noble human.

"Go on," I saw Cedric mouth, looking as though this was costing him every ounce of resolution he had, but his face was set, his arms were folded, he seemed decided.

We looked from Cedric to the cup. It was a fleeting image, but I saw Harry emerging from the maze, the cup on his hold. For a wild moment, I thought I had blacked out and loose the chance to see him touch it on the maze: that Harry had really won. But then I saw Cho Chang's face shining with admiration, all for him.

I thought my heart could break. I wanted to close my eyes, but I couldn't.

I had forgotten than in this story, I was merely a watcher. I could not possibly have something with Harry, never be more than the _friend_. These weeks had just been a dream. We were not destined to somehow end together.

I needed to remember that. To Harry Potter, I was Annie Barton, nothing more.

The picture had already faded, and I saw Cedric's shadowy, stubborn face. But then his expression changed. It was one of incredulous belief. He was unfolding his arms.

"You – you sure?" I saw him ask.

Harry must have answered yes, because Cedric's face split into a grin. He grabbed Harry's arm below the shoulder and helped Harry limp toward the plinth where the cup stood. When they had reached it, they both held a hand out over one of the cup's gleaming handles.

I frowned. Something was wrong. There was this strange outline surrounding the cup.

But before I could definitely point what it was, everything turned to a swirl of colors.


	40. An unbelievable return

_Harry's POV_

I felt my feet slam to the ground. The pain on my leg was unbearable, making me fell face-forward. The TriWizard cup slipping from my hold.

Feeling dizzy, I raised my head and looked to our new surroundings.

"Where are we?" I asked groggily. Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled me to my feet, both looking around.

We were not in Hogwarts grounds anymore. It seemed obvious we had travelled miles - perhaps hundreds of miles - for even the usual mountains surrounding the castle were gone. We were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to our right. A hill rose above us to our left. I could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.

Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at me.

"Did anyone tell you the cup was a Portkey?" he asked.

"Nope," I looked around the graveyard. It was completely silent and slightly eerie. "Is this supposed to be part of the task?"

"I dunno," said Cedric. He sounded slightly nervous. "Wands out, d'you reckon?"

"Yeah," I agreed. It was better that Cedric had suggested it rather than myself. It made it seem more important.

We pulled out our wands. I kept looking around; the feeling of being watched still clearly on my head.

Then I noticed it.

A statue like no other stands out in the graveyard. Its large figure overshadowed us. A caped man carrying a Scythe across his body. The hidden face staring down without mercy.

_"It's been on my dreams since last year," Annie's voice rang through my head. The draw in one of the pages in the prediction book had claimed my attention. Whilst all the other drawings offered a slight hopeful surrounding, these had been one of the darkest ones I had seen. "Remember when we had Trelawney's test?" I had nodded. "I saw this –" she pointed to the large figure looming over the page. "– statue of death. And white masks. All of them surrounding someone. I discovered those masks are worn by Death Eaters."_

_"Do you know why you kept seeing – this?" I asked. Annie shook her head, bitter hazel eyes staring at the drawing._

_"No. And I don't like it." She sighed. "It's like a premonition of some sort. I know it's trying to tell me something, but as much as I try to understand, my brain is keeping blank."_

Dread filled my stomach. Was this what Annie's subconscious had been trying to warn her? Was it all about the TriWizard's final task? Was I the person they had surrounded?

"Let's go," I muttered, tugging at Cedric's sleeve. He shot me a confused look. The sound of footsteps reached my ears.

"Someone's coming," Cedric said softly. I squinted through the darkness, spotting a figure drawing nearer, it's stride steady as it made its way toward us between the graves. The darkness was thick enough that neither of us was able to discern a face, but by its posture, we could tell it was carrying something in its arms. The figure was short, a hooded cloak pulled up over his head to hide his face, which explained partly why we couldn't see who it could be. The gap between us continued to steadily close as he came closer and closer - the thing in the figure's arms looked like an infant, or maybe just a bundle of robes...

I didn't lower my wand. _Use Protego and Expelliarmus until the end_, Annie had said. I thought she was being paranoid, but now – her words didn't seem as insane as before.

I glanced sideways at Cedric. He shot me a quizzical look, but we both returned to the approaching figure.

It stopped beside a towering marble headstone, only six feet from us. For a second, we simply looked at one and another.

It happened so fast.

Pain as I had only once felt before exploded from my scar. But the agony couldn't be compared as that of first year. My wand slipped from my fingers as I tried to stop the pain with both hands on my face. My knees buckled, and I was again on the ground. I felt panicked. The pain didn't let me see anything! ,y head felt as it was going to explode.

Where was Cedric? I had to warn him! The danger was still waiting just mere steps from us.

"Harry?" Cedric was terrified. His voice quivered as if he still was a small boy.

"_Kill the spare_," a high cold voice demanded.

"NO!" I gasped.

There was a loud, swishing noise, followed by a second voice screeching, "Avada Kedavra!"

"Protego!"

A green light blaze blasted against something hard. The sound of swishing wands and the sight of lights flowing across each side was the only thing I could manage to see through the pain. Cedric was fighting with all his will; his voice had changed from the quivering to a hard commanding one.

The sound of small explosions was another thing I noticed. A few pieces of tombstone fell upon me. Feeling useless, I frantically searched for my wand. But the pain was still there, and so did the blindness.

_Please lord, don't let anything bad happens! _

I felt like sobbing. Cedric was fighting for his life, and I was nearly blind. The situation was positively wrecked.

I heard something heavy fall to the ground beside me.

My heart had literally stopped beating.

"No…" I breathed. The pain on my scar had reached such a pitch that I retched, and then it diminished.

I didn't want to open my eyes. I was terrified of what I would see. The moisture on the corner of my eyes didn't help much to the situation.

Taking a deep breath, I opened my stinging eyes.

Cedric was lying spread-eagled on the ground beside me. He was dead.

My insides went cold. For a second that contained an eternity, I stared into Cedric's face, at his open gray eyes, blank and expressionless as the windows of a deserted house, at his half-open mouth. His expression was one of utter calmness.

He was…

A hard pull from my arm stopped my thoughts. I was being dragged to my feet, but I felt too numb to really care.

The short man in the cloak had put down his bundle, lit his wand, and dragged me toward the statue of death. A marble stone was lying at its feet. The wandlight flickered upon the name carved on it. A shiver ran down my spine.

**TOM RIDDLE**

I was slammed against it. The cloaked man conjured tight cords around my body to the headstone. Fast, shallow breathing seemed to be coming from the depths of the hood the figure was wearing: I struggled against him, but the man hit me – hit me with a hand with a missing finger. Realization hit me sickeningly in the stomach. It was Wormtail.

"You!" I gasped.

But Wormtail didn't reply as he finished conjuring the ropes; his fingers trembled uncontrollably as he checked the cords strength, tightening each of the knots. Once sure that I was bound tightly to the headstone so I couldn't move an inch, Wormtail drew a length of some black material from the inside of his cloak and stuffed it roughly into my mouth: bitter smell invaded my nostrils. Wormtail hurried away from me.

I couldn't make a sound, nor here had that bastard gone. I couldn't turn my head to see beyond the headstone, only what it was right in front of me.

Cedric's body was lying some twenty feet away. Some way beyond him, glinting in the starlight, lay the Triwizard Cup. My wand was on the ground at Cedric's feet. The bundle of robes that I had thought was a baby was close by, at the foot of the grave. It seemed to be stirring fretfully.

As I watched it, pain seared though my scar again… I didn't want to see what was in those robes… I don't want to see that bundle opened at all…

I could hear noises at my feet. I looked down and saw a gigantic snake slithering through the grass, circling the headstone where I was tied. Wormtail's fast, wheezy breathing was growing louder again. It sounded as though he was forcing something heavy across the ground. Then he came back within my range of vision, and I saw him pushing a stone cauldron to the foot of the grave. It was full of what seemed to be water – I could hear it slopping around – and it was larger than any cauldron I had ever used; a great stone belly large enough for a full-grown man to sit in.

The thing inside the bundle of robes on the ground was stirring more persistently, as though it was trying to free itself. Now Wormtail was busying himself at the bottom of the cauldron with a wand. Suddenly there were crackling names beneath it. The large snake slithered away into the darkness. The liquid in the cauldron seemed to heat very fast. The surface began not only to bubble, but to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Wormtail tending the fire. The movements beneath the robes became more agitated. I heard the same high cold voice again.

"Hurry!"

Sparks flew from every part of the liquid surface now.

"It is ready, Master."

_"Now..."_the cold voice demanded.

Wormtail undid the robes, finally revealing the thing inside them, and I could feel ice spread through my veins. I yelled, but my voice was muffled by the gag.

It was as though Wormtail had flipped over a stone and revealed something ugly, slimy, and blind - but worse, a hundred times worse. The thing Wormtail had been carrying had the shape of a crouched human child, except it didn't look any less like a child. It was hairless and scaly-looking, a dark, raw, reddish black. Its arms and legs were thin and feeble, and its face - no child alive ever had a face like that - flat and snakelike, with gleaming red eyes.

The thing was almost helpless; it lifted its arms toward Wormtail, who picked it up and it secured its arms around the man's neck. Wormtail lifted it up, his hood falling back in the process. As he carried the creature to the rim of the cauldron, I could see the look of revulsion on Wormtail's weak, pale face in the firelight. The sparks dancing on the surface of the potion, meanwhile, illuminated the evil, flat face and another wave of ice crashed over me, but I couldn't look away now...Wormtail lowered the creature into the center of the cauldron and there was a hiss as it vanished below the surface; the sound of its body hitting the bottom reached me with a soft thud.

_Let it drown!_ I closed tightly my eyes. _Please, let it drown…_

Wormtail was speaking. His voice shook; he seemed frightened beyond his wits. He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke to the night.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you wil lrenew your son!"

The surface of the grave at my feet cracked. Horrified, I watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Wormtail's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue. And now Wormtail was whimpering. He pulled a long, thin, shining silver dagger from inside his cloak. His voice broke into petrified sobs.

"Flesh - of the servant - w-willingly given - you will - revive - your master."

He stretched out his right hand in front of him, the one with the missing finger, gripped the dagger tightly in his left hand and swung it upward.

Realization dawned on me just seconds before it actually happened - I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block it out but unable to when Wormtail's scream pierced the silent air, feeling myself as if I had been stabbed too. The sound of someone collapsing mingled with Wormtail's anguished panting before there was a sickening splash, indicating something else had been dropped into the cauldron. I didn't think my stomach could handle it if I looked, but the fiery red light now coming from the cauldron lit up the outside of my eyelids...

Wormtail was gasping and moaning with agony. Not until I felt Wormtail's anguished breath on my face did I realize that Wormtail was right in front of me.

"B-blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe."

I could do nothing to prevent it. I was tied to tightly to even try to defend myself. As I struggled at the ropes binding me hopelessly, I squinted through the darkness and saw the shining silver dagger shaking in Wormtail's remaining hand. I felt the point penetrates the crook of my right arm, blood seeping down the sleeve of my torn robes.

Wormtail, still panting with pain, rumbled in his pocket for a glass vial and held it to my cut, so that a dribble of blood fell into it.

He staggered back to the cauldron with my blood. He poured it inside. The liquid within turned, instantly, a blinding white. Wormtail, his job done, dropped to his knees beside the cauldron, then slumped sideways and lay on the ground, cradling the bleeding stump of his arm, gasping and sobbing.

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions, so blindingly bright that it turned all else to velvety blackness. Nothing happened…

_Let it have drowned…_ I prayed_. Let it have gone wrong…_

And then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead, obliterating everything in front of me,, so that I couldn't see Wormtail or Cedric or anything but vapor hanging in the air.

_It's gone wrong… it's drowned… please… please let it be dead…_

But then, through the mist in front of me, I saw, with an icy surge of terror, the dark outline of a man, tall and skeletally thin, rising slowly from inside the cauldron.

"Robe me," said the high, cold voice from behind the steam, and Wormtail, sobbing and moaning, still cradling his mutilated arm, scrambled to pick up the black robes from the ground, got to his feet, reached up, and pulled them one-handed over his master's head.

The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring directly at me… and I couldn't help but stare at the face that had haunted my nightmares for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid scarlet eyes and a nose that was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils…

Lord Voldemort had risen again.

The snake-like man looked away from me to examine his own body. His hands looked like large, pale spiders with five long, needle-like legs instead of the usual eight; his slender fingers caressed his own chest and arms, his face; the fiery eyes had cat-like pupils, thin black slits that gleamed unnaturally bright in the darkness. He moved his hands up into his field of vision, flexing the ghostly fingers, his expression rapt and hungry, not taking notice of Wormtail, who still lay twitching and bleeding on the ground, no of the great snake slithering on the ground on my feet.

Voldemort slipped one of those unnaturally long-fingered hands into a deep pocket and drew out a wand. He caressed it gently too; and then he raised it, and pointed it at Wormtail, who was lifted off the ground and thrown against my direction. Crashing against the marble, Wormtail fell to the ground, crumpled up and crying. Voldemort's scarlet eyes found mine. I could see something shine in there, but then he closed his eyes and threw his head back, a cold mirthless laugh escaping from his mouth.

With blood shining from his ragged robes, Wormtail was wrapping his stump of an arm in them.

"My Lord..." he choked, petrified, "M-my lord...you promised...you promised me..."

"Show me your arm," Voldemort said lazily.

"Oh Master...thank you...thank you, sir..."

He extended his bleeding arm toward Voldemort, but he only laughed once more.

"The other arm, Wormtail."

"Master...Master please..."

Voldemort bent and grabbed Wormtail's left arm, forcing the sleeve of his servant's robes up past his elbow. Something like a vivid red tattoo - a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth – was moving on the skin. Moving to each side like a real animal. I recognized the image; it had appeared on the Quidditch World Cup when the Death Eaters attacked, and also, it was drawn in Annie's Prediction book: the Dark Mark.

Voldemort examined it carefully, ignoring Wormtail's uncontrollable weeping.

"It is back," he said softly, "they will all have noticed it… and now, we shall see… now we shall know…"

He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Wormtail's arm.

I gasped as pain erupted from my scar. Wormtail let out a howl. Voldemort removed his fingers from Wormtail's arm and I saw that the mark had turned jet ink black.

"How many will have the bravery to return when they feel their marks?" he whispered, his blazing red eyes watching the stars. "And how many will be fool-hardy enough to stay away?"

He began to pace up and down before us, eyes sweeping the graveyard all the while. After a minute or so, he looked down at me again, a cruel smile twisting his snakelike face.

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father," he hissed softly. "A Muggle and a fool…very like your dear mother. But they both had their uses, did they not? Your mother died to defend you as a child… and I killed my father, and see how useful he has proved himself, in death…"

Voldemort laughed again. Up and down he paced, looking all around him as he walked, and the snake continued to circle in the grass.

"You see that house upon the hillside, Potter? My father lived there. My mother, a witch who lived here in this village, fell in love with him. But he abandoned her when she told him what she was… He didn't like magic, my father…

"He left her and returned to his Muggle parents before I was even born. Potter, and she died giving birth to me, leaving me to be raised in a Muggle orphanage… but I vowed to find him… I revenged myself upon him, that fool who gave me his name… Tom Riddle…"

Still he paced, his red eyes darting from grave to grave.

"Listen to me, reliving family history…" he said quietly, "why, I am growing quite sentimental… But look, Harry! My _true_ family returns…"

His pacing stopped. Sniffing the air, his red eyes turned once more to me. A bittersweet smile tugged down at his lips.

"Except…" he breathed. A twisted glint on his eyes appeared. "You are not invited… _Barton_…"

* * *

**I am so sorry for those who wanted Cedric to live, but I hadn't really planned for him to survive. And besides, his death actually is kind of a sort of breaking point for Harry and my character. **

_**Long live Cedric Diggory. Your death will not be in vain.**_

**I am sorry.**


	41. Hoping for your return

_Third POV_

They didn't have time to catch her, but Bill Weasley did.

Neville had been worried since the third task began. His friend had seemed so… distant. Sure, she still answered them all normally and even fought one of those ridiculous fights she gets with James, so he didn't worry much.

But Neville hadn't kept his eye away from her. And for good reason.

He knew that Annie was hiding something from him and James – except Neville was sure his cocky friend already had discovered what her secret was. It wasn't in his nature to pry in other people's lives, so he didn't inquire much on this case.

It hurt him to see that the Golden Trio _did_ know what her problem was. Neville still didn't blame her. After all, they were her first best friends for long four years, even if they had distanced with the time.

Neville hoped she would have the trust to tell him one day.

And it seemed that day had arrived sooner than he thought.

"Annie! Annie?!" shrieked Mrs. Weasley.

"Are you alright?" asked Hermione worriedly. James and Ron looked alert, whilst Ginny searched for something on her own bag.

"Here," she said, throwing a bottle of water to Annie. I caught it instead and opening it, I put it on her mouth.

"Don't drink it quickly," advised Bill.

Breathing heavily, Annie drank from the bottle. Thankfully she didn't choke, but still was out of breath.

"I – I need to go – to the bathroom!" she rasped.

No one noticed it; her hands were shaking badly, her hair falling on her eyes. Annie wasn't looking at anyone: she was more worried about getting away from them.

"Very well," nodded Mrs. Weasley. "Ginny, go with her."

"NO!" Annie exclaimed. Everyone looked at her, a blush making its way on her neck. "I am fine. Really!" she said loudly as the Weasley looked all concerned for her.

"And besides, I would feel awful if Ginny misses Harry when he arrives," she said. Neville worriedly noticed there was a certain hedge on her voice. She didn't seem so sure about what she had just told them.

Without any backward glance, Annie swept out of sight.

* * *

_Anya's POV_

I needed to hurry. He had seen me. I don't know how, but Voldemort had sensed me inside Harry's mind. He had thrown me out somehow, but I don't know how.

I felt that moment what Harry felt. Fear.

And I had let him alone with that monster and the bastard of Pettigrew.

How I hated myself instantly since I saw Cedric fight Pettigrew alone. Powerless, Harry only watched blindly all what happened.

An innocent person died because of my mistake.

I ran away from the stands to the woods. Abruptly I stopped, searching through my father's bag. Pulling it out, I frantically rummaged through the pages of the Prediction book. Oh, how much I hated this book. An image made me stop. My breath quickened, as my body shook from the fear. The _shame_.

The black and yellow square had finally transformed into something. It was Cedric's shirt under his robes. I couldn't compare the drawing to what I had seen. It was so _real_: every detail was illustrated on this mercifulness page, but the grey eyes staring at me without life weren't the same as seeing him lose their light.

Holding back a sob, I turned on the page. Colors were starting to appear again. The pentagram on the middle disappearing.

"Annie!" "Bunny!"

They had followed me. Both James and Neville were running down the hill to see if I was alright.

I wasn't. I was scared for Harry.

I needed to return. And I hoped this book could do it.

* * *

"Welcome, Death Eaters," said Voldemort quietly. "Thirteen years… thirteen years since last we met. Yet you answer my call as though it were yesterday, we are still united under the Dark Mark, then! Or are we?"

He put back his terrible face and sniffed, his slit-like nostrils widening.

"I smell guilt," he said. "There is a stench or guilt upon the air."

* * *

_Anya's POV_

"What are you doing?" James demanded loudly.

I pulled out my _Discovery of Witches_ copy and started rummaging through the pages.

"Annie –" Neville was quietly staring at my anxious movements, but his drifted constantly to the Premonition book. "What's happening?"

I didn't answer him. I continued pulling pages and pages. Angry tears were running down my face.

James snatched brutally the Prediction book from the ground and looked at the death image of Cedric Diggory. Neville just glanced once at the page and paled, but he kneeled besides me on the ground. He grabbed gently my hands and cradled them on his lap; I was still shaking awfully.

"Annie," he started soothingly. "Tell us what is happening."

A sob escaped me.

"He's back," I whispered.

"Who?" it was James whom asked. The Prediction book tight-fisted on his pale hands.

I took a desperate breath.

"Voldemort."

* * *

There was a silence. Then the Death Eater to the right of Wormtail stepped forward, and Lucius Malfoy's voice spoke from under the mask.

"Master, we crave to know ... we beg you to tell us ... how you have achieved this – this miracle – how you managed to return to us…"

"Ah, what a story it is, Lucius," chuckled Voldemort. "And it begins - and ends – with my young friend here."

Voldemort walked to where Harry had quietly watched their interactions. The Death Eaters all looked at them, with Nagini still circling the ground.

"You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?" Harry's scar had begun to fiercely hurt as Voldemort spoke. "You all know that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him. His mother died in the attempt to save him – and unwittingly provided him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen. ... I could not touch the boy."

Voldemort raised one of his long white fingers and put it very close to Harry's cheek.

"His mother left upon him the traces other sacrifice… This is old magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook it... but no matter. I can touch him now."

Harry felt the cold tip of the long white finger touch him, and thought his head would burst with the pain. Voldemort laughed softly in his ear, then took the finger away and continued addressing the Death Eaters.

"I miscalculated, my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. Aaah… pain beyond pain, my friends; nothing could have prepared me for it. I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost… but still, I was alive. What I was, even I do not know... I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal - to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments had worked… for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it. Nevertheless, I was as powerless as the weakest creature alive, and without the means to help myself... for I had no body, and every spell that might have helped me required the use of a wand…

"I remember only forcing myself, sleeplessly, endlessly, second by second, to exist… I settled in a faraway place, in a forest, and I waited… Surely, one of my faithful Death Eaters would try and find me… one of them would come and perform the magic I could not, to restore me to a body, but I waited in vain…"

The shiver ran once more around the circle of listening Death Eaters.

"Only one power remained to me. I could possess the bodies of others. But I dared not go where other humans were plentiful, for I knew that the Aurors were still abroad and searching for me. I sometimes inhabited animals - snakes, of course, being my preference - but I was little better off inside them than as pure spirit, for their bodies were ill adapted to perform magic… and my possession of them shortened their lives; none of them lasted long…

"Then… four years ago… the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard - young, foolish, and gullible - wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of... for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school... he was easy to bend to my will... he brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. I was not to be assured immortal life. I was thwarted… thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter… and his friend… Anya _Barton_…"

He had spited her last name as if the mere word was a curse – a disease. Harry didn't understand why, but all the Death Eaters began to whisper at each other. The name Barton rang through the graveyard as one voice. Why did it cause such a great reaction on them? On their leader, who so fiercely had looked as if Christmas had arrived sooner for him when he had caught Harry?

"Yes my friends…" Voldemort hissed. "Once again, a _Barton_ will fight against us… and a _Rosenberg_ will follow closely, there's no doubt… but don't worry, we are prepared this time. I made sure of it…"

* * *

_James's POV_

"So, you are trying to say… Voldyshorts is back?" I asked sarcastically. I couldn't help it. The man had been dead for years, and he suddenly appears? Has the world gone mad?!

"This is not a joke, James!" snapped Bunny. More like Anya did. She had stopped crying, and instead, a cold calculated demeanor took its place on her face. It was odd on her.

She was stubborn, I gave her that. But how the hell would she help Potter to come back?

"I didn't say it was!" I retorted angrily. The idea of her turning to be insane was beginning to make sense n some strange way.

"It doesn't look like it!"

"Oh! I am so sorry, your highness! Perhaps do you wish for a better jester?!"

"Only if the jester isn't you!"

"SHUT UP!" roared Neville. We both glared at each other, and then looked away. I heard Neville sigh. "What do you need us to do?" he asked calmly. Annie glared at the drawing book on my hands.

I turned down and stared at it. I gazed at the empty grey eyes of Diggory. To think, that color had resembled somewhat mine… it made me sick.

According to Annie, he was no longer alive. And this notebook had the very evidence of what happened –

My eyes widened.

"Guys, I think – I think I have a plan!"

* * *

"Now untie him, Wormtail, and give him back his wand."

Wormtail approached Harry, who scrambled to find his feet, to support his own weight before the ropes were untied. Wormtail raised his new silver hand, pulled out the wad of material gagging Harry, and then, with one swipe, cut through the bonds tying Harry to the gravestone.

For a second, Harry considered running. But his injured leg shook under him as he stood on the overgrown grave. The Death Eaters came closer, the circle tightening around him, so that the gaps where the missing Death Eaters should have stood were filled.

Wormtail walked out of the circle to the place where Cedric's body lay and returned with Harry's wand, which he thrust roughly into his hand without looking at him, and promptly returned to the circle.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked softly.

It was vague, but the memory of a dueling club on his second year came to Harry. The only spell he had learned there that did work was the Disarming Spell. But what use would it be for him to disarm Voldemort? There were at least thirty Death Eaters around Harry. All of them against one… Nothing Hermione, James and Annie had taught Harry to avoid had prepared him for this. He knew he was facing the thing against which Moody had always warned… the unblockable Avada Kedavra curse – and Voldemort was right - his mother was not here to die for him this time… he didn't have friends to help him… he was all alone…

How he wished Annie was still inside of his mind. The morbid thought that had come with that knowledge disappearing as he stared at those cold red eyes.

"We bow to each other, Harry," said Voldemort, bending a little, but keeping his snakelike face upturned to Harry. "Come, the niceties must be observed… Dumbledore would like you to show manners… Bow to death, Harry…"

* * *

_Neville's POV_

"Are you sure this will work?" I asked nervously.

James had surprisingly summoned the charmed papers he gave us in New Year. This time all of them were golden. Making them paper balls, he put four around Annie, forming a square. Annie was still shaking from what she had seen.

And I wasn't prepared for her to reveal the truth.

Nodding, James gave the sketching book to Annie.

"It's worth a shot. Everything that is drawn in there becomes true, doesn't it?" Annie shakily nodded. "And from what you have told us, the pictures were made by you. By logic, _you_ should be able to change that."

"And what are these papers for?" she pointed around her.

"You'll see," assured James, whom just stopped reading _Discovery of Witches_ book. He threw himself ungracefully on the grass. "Have you found them?" He asked me.

I searched more deeply through Annie's bag and pulled out a bottle of ink and a quill. I shook my head.

"Only this."

Eyeing it for a moment, James narrowed his eyes before he gave a brisk nod.

"That will do."

* * *

His hand was shaking, Harry knew. He had assumed since his first year that one day, he would have to confront the Dark Lord personally. It had been clarified when he met a young Riddle down in the Chamber of Secrets.

But he was still not prepared. Perhaps mentally, but his body said otherwise. The Cruciatus curse had come as a bit of surprise, but still, that didn't stop him to be stubborn to do as people say.

If he was going to die, Harry had set in mind to fight until the end. Just like Cedric did.

"And now - we duel."

Voldemort raised his wand, and before he could do anything, Harry was subdued to the Cruciatus Curse once more. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was…

White-hot knives were piercing every inch of his skin; his head was surely going to burst from pain. He was bloody screaming like he hadn't before. A blood curling odd sound that came out from his very core.

And then it stopped. Harry rolled over and scrambled to his feet; he was shaking badly. He staggered sideways into the wall of watching Death Eaters, and they pushed him away, back toward Voldemort.

"A little break," said Voldemort, the slit-like nostrils dilating with excitement, "a little pause… That hurt, didn't it, Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you?"

* * *

_Anya's POV_

_What do I do? _I was deathly terrified.

I had just one chance. One opportunity to save Harry. And it all depended on my drawing skills, thing which I had not done in a very long time.

What would happen if everything turned wrong?

James tapped five times each of the four paper balls surrounding me. As his wand left the final one, all of them broke out into flames. Instead of the original red, blue and purple colors I had seen first, a gold glimmer surrounded it. The four lights united, and I was locked inside a square of light.

"Remember!" James called over the fire. "You have to draw it from the heart, otherwise –"

He broke off.

Taking a deep breath I tipped the quill on the ink.

* * *

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry," his voice followed him. The laugh of the Death Eaters rang around him as Harry hid behind the marble headstone of Voldemort's father. "You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel? Does this mean that you would prefer me to finish it now, Harry? Come out, Harry… come out and play, then… it will be quick… it might even be painless… I would not know… I have never died…"

As he crouched behind the stone, Harry realized this might be the end for him. There was no help for him… no hope at all. And as he heard Voldemort draw nearer still, he knew one thing only, and it was beyond fear or reason: He was not going to die crouching here like a child playing hide-and-seek; he was not going to die kneeling at Voldemort s feet... he was going to die upright like his father, and he was going to die trying to defend himself, even if no defense was possible…

* * *

_Anya's POV_

It was a small line. Then came another, followed by a small circle. Lines began to appear by my own hand. I was not sure what I actually was drawing. I only had in mind one thing: I didn't want Harry to fight alone.

Yes, I could not return. But still… the first small sketch took form. Gentle fierce eyes stared at me from the page. The caress of a mother.

The second set of lines were a proud hand on a shoulder, his shoulder. The proud stance of a father.

And between those figures, a small boy – no, a boy becoming a man – stood with his hands on his wand.

Gnawing my lower lip, I did as James said.

I tapped my wand once. Twice. Until it were five times.

It didn't happen anything. Had it even worked?

Then, the ink forming the drawings began to glow. The four balls of paper burst into golden fierce flames.

* * *

As he threw himself around the stone, he became face to face with the murderer of Harry's parents. Voldemort was waiting for him.

_"Expelliarmus!" "Avada Kedavra!"_

A jet of green light issued from Voldemorts wand just as a jet of red light blasted from Harry's - they met in midair - and suddenly Harry's wand was vibrating as though an electric charge were surging through it; his hand seized up around it; he couldn't have released it if he'd wanted to - and a narrow beam of light connected the two wands, not red nor green, but bright, deep gold. Atonished, Harry followed the beam with his gaze. Voldemort's long white fingers too were gripping a wand that was shaking and vibrating.

* * *

_Anya's POV_

I saw him. He was fighting Voldemort with all his will. He wasn't going down without a fight, and intended for him to turn out alive.

Harry's wand was connected with that of Voldemort's. A deep golden light had them connected as one.

And I heard it: the beautiful call of a bird. A phoenix glowed behind the surroundings of my drawing, and I knew… it was my wish… my wish for Harry to survive. An ally for him in this battle.

"Don't break the connection," I whispered to the phoenix.

* * *

_Don't break the connection._

_I know_, Harry whispered back._ I know I mustn't._

But it became harder for him to do so. His wand began to vibrate more powerfully than ever… and now the beam between him and Voldemort changed too ... it was as though large beads of light were sliding up and down the thread connecting the wands - Harry felt his wand give a shudder under his hand as the light beads began to slide slowly and steadily his way… The direction of the beams movement was now toward him, from Voldemort, and he felt his wand shudder angrily…

As the closest bead of light moved nearer to Harrys wand tip, the wood beneath his fingers grew so hot he feared it would burst into flame. The closer that bead moved, the harder Harry's wand vibrated; he was sure his wand would not survive contact with it; it felt as though it was about to shatter under his fingers -

He concentrated every last particle of his mind upon forcing the bead back toward Voldemort, his ears full of phoenix song, his furious eyes… and slowly, very slowly, the beads quivered to a halt, and then, just as slowly, they began to move the other way . . . and it was Voldemort's wand that was vibrating extra-hard now… Voldemort who looked astonished, and almost fearful…

One of the beads of light was quivering, inches from the tip of Voldemort's wand. Harry didn't understand why he was doing it, didn't know what it might achieve, but he now concentrated as he had never done in his life on forcing that bead of light right back into Voldemort s wand… and slowly… very slowly… it moved along the golden thread… it trembled for a moment… and then it connected…

At once, Voldemort's wand began to emit echoing screams of pain… then - Voldemort's red eyes widened with shock - a dense, smoky hand flew out of the tip of it and vanished… the ghost of the hand he had made Wormtail… more shouts of pain… and then something much larger began to blossom from Voldemort's wand tip, a great, grayish something, that looked as though it were made of the solidest, densest smoke… It was a head… now a chest and arms…

* * *

_Anya's POV_

It was Cedric Diggory. Or a ghost version of him. I could feel myself gaping in shock, but Harry had not such benefit. He still had a strong hold on his wand.

Another figure came out from Voldemort's wand. An old man… then it was a woman…

And then they appeared. A tall man with untidy hair fell to the ground, and he straightened up. Closely, another woman came. Her long wavy –almost curly – hair bellowing behind her. The sharp angles on her face were put on a gentle stance. She was taller than myself, but I knew.

And I thanked the gods for giving me a chance to see her.

* * *

"Lily is coming, Harry," the woman spoke softly. It was a vivid image of his best friend, except for her stature. Harry instantly knew this woman was Serena Barton, Annie's mother. "Please, hang on…"

And she came… first her head, then her body... a young woman with long hair, the smoky, shadowy form of Lily Potter blossomed from the end of Voldemort's wand, fell to the ground, and straightened like her husband and friend. She walked close to Harry, looking down at him, and she spoke in the same distant, echoing voice as the others, but quietly, so that Voldemort could not hear them…

"When your connection is broken, we'll all only linger for a few moments..." she said quietly.

"But we will give you time…" Serena said with the faint hint of the famous smirk Harry had once seen on Sirius.

"You must get to the Portkey, it will return you to Hogwarts ... do you understand, Harry?" James Potter said.

"Yes!" Harry gasped.

All the ghost looked over at Voldemort, and then to the golden light.

"She can't hold on much longer…" Serena frowned sadly. "We must hurry."

"Harry . . ." whispered the figure of Cedric, "take my body back, will you? Take my body back to my parents, ..."

"I will," said Harry, his face screwed up with the effort of holding the wand.

"Do it now," whispered his father's voice, "be ready to run… do it now…"

"NOW!" Harry yelled, he pulled his wand upward with an almighty wrench, and the golden thread broke; the cage of light vanished, the phoenix song died - but the shadowy figures of Voldemort's victims did not disappear - they were closing in upon Voldemort, shielding Harry from his gaze -

And Harry ran as he had never run in his life, knocking two stunned Death Eaters aside as he passed; he zigzagged behind headstones, feeling their curses following him, hearing them hit the headstones - he was dodging curses and graves, pelting toward Cedric's body, no longer aware of the pain in his leg, his whole being concentrated on what he had to do -

"Stun him!" he heard Voldemort scream.

Ten feet from Cedric, Harry dived behind a marble angel to avoid the jets of red light and saw the tip of its wing shatter as the spells hit it. Gripping his wand more tightly, he dashed out from behind the angel - "Impedimenta!" he bellowed, pointing his wand wildly over his shoulder at the Death Eaters running at him.

From a muffled yell, he thought he had stopped at least one of them, but there was no time to stop and look; he jumped over the cup and dived as he heard more wand blasts behind him; more jets of light flew over his head as he fell, stretching out his hand to grab Cedric's arm...

"Stand aside! I will kill him! He is mine!" shrieked Voldemort. Harry's hand had closed on Cedric's wrist; one tombstone stood between him and Voldemort, but Cedric was too heavy to carry, and the cup was out of reach –

_You want it_, Annie's sardonic voice came to his mind. _You need it._

"_Accio_!" Harry bellowed, pointing his wand at the Triwizard Cup. It flew into the air and soared toward him. Harry caught it by the handle -

Last thing he heard was Voldemort's scream of fury.

Everything turned a swirl of colors, and Harry, along with Cedric's body and the cup, disappeared on a whirl of wind.

* * *

_James's POV_

With a last shuddering gasp, Bunny face fell on the ground. The golden flames exploded into dark puffs of smoke and everything became dark once more.

"Annie!" Neville quickly crossed the square and fell on his knees next to her. She was still conscious, thank god.

With her head tilting to one side, she mumbled, "He's back. He's alright."

And I think she fainted.


	42. Veritaserum

_Third POV_

"Where does she put all the food? She weights like a feather!"

The ritual James had found worked. Neville was sure that Harry had already returned to Hogwarts grounds. He was glad of that, but he knew that what Harry had brought with him would change whole course of the Wizarding World.

Both Neville and James had played the rock paper scissor game to see who of them would carry Annie to the castle. Merlin had been on Neville's side this time.

"Should I be flattered?" they heard Annie mumble quite tiredly against James' shoulder. He was carrying her bridal style while Neville had her bag with him.

Once they arrived to their destination, the three of them witnessed what it was called chaos. Girls were sobbing hysterically around, Cho Chang being mainly one of them. Yells surrounded the pitch: the crowd wild on their feet.

"He's dead!" "Diggory's dead!"

A heartbreaking sound reached their ears. The agony yells of Amos Diggory could be nothing compared to what they had thought to be pain before. Mrs. Diggory sobbed harshly, clutching her husband's shoulder while he had a tight grip on their dead son's body.

"I'm sorry," Annie whispered against the muffled red robe of James. "I'm so sorry."

The three friends could do nothing more than watch the scene. They knew, with what they had witnessed down in the woods, Cedric's death had just been the very beginning of the war.

"Hey," Neville's voice broke them out of their reverie. "Isn't that Professor Moody leading Harry to the castle?"

The faint shape of Professor Moody walked up to the castle. At his side, he dragged Harry away from the mess his return had caused.

"Is that even normal?" asked James, adjusting his arms to not let his friend fall. "It would be better if Harry wasn't moved out of Dumbledore's sight. Or of anyone's, for that matter?"

It was as if something had snapped inside Neville. No, James was right. Harry needed to be on everyone's watch. What Moody had done was such a careless act that – it didn't seem so like him.

"We need to follow them," Annie gasped.

James scoffed. "Yeah, right. With your condition –"

"I don't care!" she snapped. "Now, put me down."

Scoffing and muttering something like 'ungrateful rabbit', James did as told.

"Okay," she took a breath. "Both of you go to Mr. Dumbledore immediately. Warn him about this."

Without another word and with a new renewed health, Annie began to jog.

* * *

_Anya's POV_

I was tired. I just wanted to go and sleep to my bed, snuggle warmly to the soft pillows. Wait for the next day…

But the moment I heard Neville say Mad-Eye was taking Harry out of sight sent alarming bells on my head. It worsened when James commented it was such unusual for someone to be an Auror to do that.

And so I ran. Half awake, half tired, I jogged silently to the castle, avoiding the thick mass of the crowd as I made my way to them. Reaching the entrance Hall was a very difficult task, but I managed. Leaning tiredly on one of the walls, I took deep breaths. My hand fisting my front robes as the other one passed through my hair.

Almost ready, I began to jog up the hallways to the DADA teacher's office.

It was a long trip. Either I tripped on my own feet, or I suddenly got dizzy, but I still continued, alternating between walking, jogging or running. My own body was ready to shut down, but the adrenaline inside me kept me awake until I could see him. Until I knew Harry was completely safe.

Catching my breath, I limped slowly to Moody's door.

* * *

_Harry's POV_

"You didn't! Cedric gave me the clue -"

"Who told Cedric to open it underwater? I did," snapped Moody. It had to be a joke. Mad-Eye had been the Death Eater Voldemort had talked about. I had trusted this man… Neville did, and so had Annie. It had to be a joke!

"I trusted that he would pass the information on to you," he continued. "Decent people are so easy to manipulate, Potter. I was sure Cedric would want to repay you for telling him about the dragons, and so he did. But even then, Potter, even then you seemed likely to fail. I was watching all the time ... all those hours in the library. Didn't you realize that the book you needed was in your dormitory all along? I planted it there early on, I gave it to the Longbottom boy, don't you remember?"

Of course I did. If it hadn't been for Neville and Annie, it was more likely I would have failed.

"–_ Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean_. It wasn't you whom discovered it. I expected you to ask anyone you could for help. Longbottom would have told you in an instant. But you did not… you did not… You have a streak of pride and independence that might have ruined all.

"Then Barton interfered," he gave me a nasty grin. "Took the matter on her hands and found out the Gillyweed. She even pretty damn persuaded the elf to steal it from Snape's dungeon. She unknowingly saved my plan… all because she cares too much for you to try to keep you above water."

* * *

_Anya's POV_

I clenched my hands on fists. It took all my will to not pound the door on anger.

It had been him all along, and I was stupid enough to trust Moody. And because I was biased, feed with stories about my father. Had they even been true?

Hardening my fist, I blinked several times before I pulled my wand out of my head. My hair that had been tied in a bun with the wand stick fell around my shoulders.

I vaguely wondered when I would get a cut of hair when, seconds later, I was banging inside the Professor's office.

"STUPEFY!" I yelled. Instead of a beam of red light, a small thin white lightning crossed the room and hit Mad-Eye right on the chest. Once more, I wondered why in the heavens' hell a white lightning appeared on a Stunning spell?

Moody was thrown backward onto the office floor. Harry was still, his gaze still on where Moody had been.

Over his shoulder, a Foe-Glass faced the door, giving me a full look of myself.

I looked like a zombie. All my hair was around me like a fluffy cloud. My clothes were all disheveled from the run I made to het here. And there were thick purple bags under my eyes… My eyes – they were not hazel anymore.

At that moment, I found out why Neville had been scared by them. It would sound vain coming from me, but I knew my usually hazel gave off a feeling of warm. Rounder and soft they were. But now, an icy cold blue had replaced all that familiarity. My eyes seemed sharper – more slit like. And almost unnoticed, there were faint specks of purple in them.

There was no feeling of burn this time. They did not change to their normal color like before.

I was staring at a total stranger. And it scared me.

* * *

_Harry's POV_

Her eyes were half-lidded, but I still could see the change beginning to stir. Her hazel colour began to disappear before it became a light shade of green. The green lightened and it transformed to a lighter colour, almost beginning to become white. But then a strange shade of light blue appeared.

She was sharper. I knew it. Almost to the brink of unconscious, she still was sensible to her surroundings.

She looked different, yet, I still recognized the lanky girl that had kissed me hours ago. From now, it seemed that had been ages.

Whirling around, I sighed in relief. Annie lowered her wand and I silently hobbled over, hugging her tightly once I reached her place. Annie answered the same way, if not more fervently. As I hid my face in the crook of her neck, I could hear the quickened paces outside of the office.

The figures I had seen on the Foe-Glass had solidified into Albus Dumbledore, and Professors Snape and McGonagall standing in the doorway, Dumbledore had his wand outstretched.

The terrible look on Dumbledore's face as he stared down at the unconscious form of Mad-Eye Moody suddenly made me understand why everyone said he was the only wizard Voldemort truly feared and fear crept down my spine despite knowing the anger was not directed at me. Cold fury replaced the warm smile that normally lined his ancient face and that familiar twinkle in his blue eyes was no longer visible behind his half-moon spectacles. A deep sense of power radiated from Dumbledore like body heat.

He stepped into the office, placed a foot underneath Moodys unconscious body, and kicked him over onto his back, so that his face was visible. Snape followed him, looking into the Foe-Glass, where his own face was still visible, glaring into the room. Professor McGonagall walked over at us, and I saw James standing behind her. His silver eyes narrowed at the scene.

"I think that was enough, Miss Barton," she said gently. Then whispered, "Come along, Potter. Both of you come along… hospital wing..."

"No," said Dumbledore sharply.

"Dumbledore, they really ought to - look at the two of them - they've been through more than enough tonight – she looks ready to faint –"

She was right. Annie still had her arms around my neck, but it seemed I was more her anchor now. James silently walked over at us.

"They will stay, Minerva, because they both need to understand, so they will be able to accept it and fully recover. They both need to know who's put them through the events they've had to suffer tonight, and why they've had to suffer," Dumbledore replied curtly.

I blinked guiltily. I had forgotten Annie somehow had been with me on all the end of the Tournament. If what I had seen still traumatized me, how will she react, having been a witness to all this horror?

"But Moody," I said in disbelief. "How could it have been Moody?" he was Dumbledore's friend. An _Auror_, for goodness sake!

"Simple," James intervened, a sneer so compatible with that of Malfoy's stretched on his face. "Because this man isn't Moody."

"Neither of you had met Alastor Moody," Dumbledore agreed. "When Mr. Leopold and Mr. Longbottom told me you've been removed out of sight, I knew he wasn't Alastor. The real Moody wouldn't've removed you out of my sight after the events that have occurred tonight. I knew – and I followed Miss Barton."

Dumbledore bent over Moody's limp form and reached inside his robes, pulling out Moody's hip flask and a ring with a set of keys. Then he turned again to Professors McGonagall and Snape.

"Severus, please fetch me the strongest Truth Potion you possess in your stores, and then go down to the kitchens and retrieve the house-elf Winky. Minerva, please head down to Hagrid's house. In the pumpkin patch, you will find a large black dog, which I would like you to take up to my office. Inform him I will be with him shortly and come back here."

If they were confused at his petition, neither of the Professors showed it and only turned and left the office at once.

"Harry," James' voice made me look at him. The Durmstrang boy raised one eyebrow and looked down at my arms. Annie had become limp, and for a wild moment I thought she had fainted, but I still felt her fist tightening in the back of my robes.

"Come on," I tugged her and walked her over at Moody's – the impostor's desk chair. I sat beside her, having a hold of her hand. James sat and I absently noted he started to soothingly rub her shoulder.

Dumbledore walked over to the seven locked trunk in the corner, fitted the first key in a lock, and opened it. A mass of spell-books was inside. Closing that trunk, Dumbledore placed the second key in the next lock, and opened the trunk once more. Instead of the spellbooks, an assortment of broken Sneako-scopes, some parchment, quills, and a silvery Invisibility Cloak were inside. I watched in astounded as Dumbledore fit the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth keys in their respective locks and reopened the trunk each time to a different assortment of contents. Then, he finally placed the seventh key in its lock and opened the lid once more. I let out a cry of amazement. I heard James swear softly from the other side, and Annie just stared with wide eyes, not seeming tired anymore.

The trunk looked to open up into a dark, underground room. Lying on the floor some ten feet below, appearing to be fast asleep, and looking to be quite thin and starved, was the real Mad-Eye Moody. His wooden leg was missing, and, beneath its lid, the socket that would have held his magical eye looked empty. Great chunks of grizzled gray hair were missing from his scalp. I looked between the sleeping Moody in the trunk and the unconscious Moody lying on the office floor, my brain numb with disbelief.

Dumbledore carefully climbed into the trunk, lowered himself down, and landed lightly on the floor beside the sleeping Moody. He knelled down next to him.

"Stunned - controlled by the Imperius Curse - very weak," he said. "Of course, they would have needed to keep him alive. Harry, throw down the imposter's cloak - he's freezing. Madam Pomfrey will need to see him, but he seems in noimmediate danger."

I did as told; Dumbledore covered Moody in the cloak, tucked it around him, and clambered out of the trunk again. Then he picked up the hip flask that stood upon the desk, unscrewed it, and turned it over. A thick glutinous liquid splattered onto the office floor.

"Polyjuice Potion," said Dumbledore. "You see the simplicity of it, and the brilliance. For Moody never does drink except from his hip flask, he's well known for it. The imposter needed, of course, to keep the real Moody close by, so that he could continue making the potion. You see his hair ..." Dumbledore looked down on the Moody in the trunk. "The imposter has been cutting it off all year, see where it is uneven? But I think, in the excitement of tonight, our fake Moody might have forgotten to take it as frequently as he should have done ... on the hour… every hour… We shall see."

Dumbledore pulled the chair behind the desk out and took a seat, his eyes on the unconscious Moody on the floor. Silence developed in the room as we all stared.

Then, before our very eyes, the face of the man before us started to change. The scars repaired themselves until the skin was left smooth; the mangled nose became whole once more and started to shrink. The long grizzled gray mane withdrew into the scalp and lightened to the color of straw. With a loud clunk, the wood leg detached itself as a normal human leg regrew in its stead. There was an audible _pop_ as the magical eye dislodged from the socket as the man's real eye regrew in its place; the still swiveling glass eye rolled down the man's cheek and across the floor.

The man now lying before us was pale-skinned, freckled, and had a mop of fine hair. It didn't take but a second to recognize who it was, as Annie and I had seen him once before in Dumbledore's memory, stored in his Pensieve up in his office; we'd seen him being dragged away by the dementors, screaming at Mr. Crouch, and trying to convince him he was innocent...although, lines had now appeared under his eyes and he'd aged quite a bit.

Then James did swore loud and badly that made Annie jump on her seat, her new blue eyes staring in shock at the man in the floor.

"The hell...?" she breathed.

Hurried footsteps sounded outside in the corridor. Snape swept into the room with Winky at his heels. Professor McGonagall was just a few feet behind them.

"Crouch!" Snape said, stopping dead in his tracks. "Barty Crouch!"

"Good heavens," Professor McGonagall said, stopping at Snape's shoulder and staring, wide-eyed at the man unconscious on the floor.

Filthy, disheveled, Winky peered around Snape's legs. Her mouth opened wide and she let out a piercing shriek.

"Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you doing here?"

She flung herself forward onto the young man's chest.

"You is killed him! You is killed him! You is killed Master's son!"

"He is simply Stunned, Winky," said Dumbledore. "Step aside, please. Severus, you have the potion?"

Snape stepped forward and handed Dumbledore a small glass bottle filled with a clear liquid: the Veritaserum that he had threatened Harry and I with in class. Dumbledore took it, knelled next to the man on the floor, and pulled him into a sitting position against the wall beneath the Foe-Glass. His, Professor Snape, and Professor McGonagall's reflections still stood, glaring down on all of us. Winky remained on her knees beside Barty Crouch Jr., trembling, her face covered by her hands. Dumbledore opened the man's mouth and poured three small drops inside. Then, he pointed at the man's chest with his wand and said, "Ennervate."

Crouch's son opened his eyes and his face went slack, his gaze unfocused, dazed. Dumbledore shifted so he knelt before him, so that their eyes were level.

"Can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked him quietly.

The young man's eyes flickered, "Yes," he murmured.

"I would like for you to tell us how you came to be here," Dumbledore said softly. "How were you able to escape Azkaban?"

Crouch took a deep, shuddering breath and then started to speak in a flat, emotionless voice.

"My mother was my savior. She knew I was dying in there, and she persuaded my father to rescue me as a final favor. He agreed because he truly loved her, loved her like he'd never loved me. So they came to visit me and they gave me a draft of Polyjuice Potion containing one of my mother's hairs. She drank a draft of Polyjuice Potion with one of my hairs in it and we took on one another's appearances."

Winky was shaking her head feverishly, trembling.

"Tell them no more, Master Barty, you is getting your father into trouble!"

But Crouch just took another deep breath and continued his story in the same flat voice.

"The dementors are without sight, so they could not see, but sense the prisoners. They sensed a healthy, and a dying person entering Azkaban. When my father and I left, they felt the same healthy, and dying people leave. My father was able to smuggle me out disguised as my mother, as a precaution in case any of the other prisoners were watching us through their doors.

"It wasn't long until my mother died there in Azkaban. She carefully drank Polyjuice Potion until her last hour and then she was buried under my name, still bearing my appearance. Everyone thought she was me."

Crouch's eyes flickered again.

"And once your father got you home, what did he do?" Dumbledore asked.

"He staged my mother's death and had a quiet, private funeral. Her grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health. I had to remain concealed afterward, had to be controlled. There were a great number of spells my father had to use to subdue me, but once I'd recovered my strength, I only thought of finding my master...of returning to him once more."

"How was your father able to subdue you?" Dumbledore asked.

"With the Imperius Curse," Crouch said. "I was completely under my father's control. I was forced to hide under an Invisibility Cloak day and night, so no one would suspect anything, and I was always accompanied by the house-elf. She'd become my keeper and caretaker. I knew she pitied me for how I had to live, so she persuaded my father for occasional treats, rewards for my good behavior."

"Master Barty, please!" Winky sobbed through her hands. "You really ought not to tell them, we's getting into trouble..."

"Did anyone else discover that you were still alive?" Dumbledore asked softly. "Did anyone know of your existence aside from your father and the house-elf?"

"Yes...yes, there was a witch from my father's office," Crouch said, his eyes flickering once more. "Bertha Jorkins was her name. She came to the house with papers that my father needed to sign. He wasn't home. Winky showed her inside and came back to the kitchen, came back to me. But Bertha overheard Winky talking to me and came to investigate. She heard enough of our conversation to guess who it was that was hiding under the Invisibility Cloak. My father came home and she confronted him. He was forced to perform a powerful Memory Charm on her to make her forget what she'd found out, but it was too powerful. It damaged her memory forever.

"Why's she come nosing into my masters' private business?" Winky sobbed from her position on the floor. "Why she not leaving us be?"

"Tell us about the Quidditch World Cup," Dumbledore siad.

"Winky convinced my father to let me go," Crouch said, still in a monotone voice. "She spent months persuading him to let me go, knowing I hadn't left the house for years and that I loved Quidditch. She convinced him that I would be wearing my Invisibility Cloak and that I would be able to smell fresh air for once. She told him my mother would've wanted me to get out of the house, that she'd died to grant my freedom, that she wouldn't have wanted me to live a life of imprisonment. He finally gave in.

"They planned it carefully. My father led Winky and I up to the Top Box earlier in the day, telling Winky that she was to inform others that she was saving a seat for him. I sat beside her, invisible. We waited until everyone else had left the box before we left it as well. Winky appeared to be alone, no one ever knowing what was truly going on.

"But Winky never knew that I was growing stronger, that I was starting to fight off the Imperius Curse. There were times when I was almost myself again, and I had brief periods when I was outside his control. I finally broke it completely while we were in the Top Box. It felt like I was just waking up from a deep sleep. I found myself in public, right in the middle of the match. A wand was sticking out of a young man's pocket right in front of me. I hadn't been allowed to use a wand since before I went to Azkaban. I stole it without Winky knowing. Her face was hidden in her hands because she's frightened of heights."

"Oh, Master Barty, you naughty boy!" Winky whimpered, tears streaming through her fingers.

"So you took the wand, and did what with it?" Dumbledore asked.

"We went back to our tent for the night," Crouch said. "And then we heard the Death Eaters rioting, the ones who were too cowardly to go to Azkaban, the ones who had never suffered for my master, who'd turned their backs on him, those who hadn't become enslaved like I had. They were free to find him, bring him back to power, yet they did not. Instead they made a sport of tormenting the Muggles. It was their voices that woke me. I grew angry at their incompetence, and now that I had the wand, I could do something about their disloyalty.

"I wanted desperately to attack them with the wand, make them pay for betraying my master. My father left the tent to free the Muggles, telling Winky to stay in the tent with me. She was frightened to see me so angry and used her own brand of magic to bind us together. She pulled me from the tent and into the forest, away from the Death Eaters, away from the riot. I tried to fight back against her, to return to the campsite, and show those Death Eaters what true loyalty meant, to punish them for their disloyalty. I shot the Dark Mark into the sky with the stolen wand.

"Ministry wizards swarmed to the scene and shot Stunning Spells everywhere. One spell came through the trees where Winky and I were and broke our connection. Winky had been stunned, and I took advantage of it and ran." He became quiet.

"And then?" Dumbledore asked sharply.

"I was making sure that no one had followed me. The woods were too dark for me to see properly, but a sound made me turn around. I was staring at the vivid image of the Black whore, a younger version," he added. Shocked I turned down to see Annie, and instead saw James clenching his jaw tightly. Annie's hand was on his arm in a tight grasp, holding him on place. "She was hiding on the bushes, but the moon light gave me the ability to see her face clearly. The Barton traitor's eyes were staring at me with fear. I knew she had to die and I chased after her. I lost the bastard child."

I glared fiercely ar Crouch. He had been intending to kill Annie, for hate to her parents?

Recalling all the times I have heard the name Barton spat by the enemy, it had made me wonder. What kind of reputation did Annie's family have? What did it mean to Voldemort?

"Without myself knowing, I returned to the same spot. Father found me and he put me back under the Imperius Curse and took me back home. Since she'd failed him, allowed me to acquire a wand, to nearly let me escape, he dismissed Winky."

A shrill wail of despair left Winky, and I jumped.

"Now Father and I alone remained in the house. And then..." Crouch's head rolled about on his neck, and his face split into an insane smile. "My master finally came for me."

"It was late into the night when he arrived in the arms of his servant, Wormtail. He'd found out I was still alive through Bertha Jorkins, whom he captured in Albania and tortured for information. He learned a great deal from her, about the Triwizard Tournament, about the old Auror, Moody, going to teach at Hogwarts. He tortured her until he was able to break through the Memory Charm my father had placed upon her. She'd told him I'd escaped from Azkaban and that I was imprisoned by my father to prevent me from finding him. My master knew I was still his faithful servent, perhaps one of his most faithful of all. My master conceived a plan based on the information he'd obtained from Bertha. He needed me for his plan. It was near midnight when he arrived. My father was the one that answered the door."

The smile widened, as though Crouch was retelling his sweetest memory. I could see Winky's petrified brown eyes though her fingers, as though they themselves were invisible. She seemed too stunned to speak.

"It was rather quick. As he had imprisoned me, my father was himself imprisoned; my master placed him under the Imperius Curse, forcing him to attend to his business as usual, to act as though nothing was amiss. I was reawakened once more and I returned to myself again. I felt more alive than I had in years."

"And what is it Lord Voldemort asked you to do?" Dumbledore asked.

"He asked me whether I was ready to risk everything for him. I was ready. It was my dream, my greatest ambition, to serve him, to prove myself to him. He told me he needed to place a faithful servant at Hogwarts. A servant who would guide Harry Potter through the Triwizard Tournament without appearing to do so. A servant who would watch over Harry Potter. Ensure he reached the TriWizard Cup. Turn the cup into a Portkey, which would take the first person to touch it to my master. But first -"

"You needed Alastor Moody," said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were blazing, though his voice remained calm.

"Wormtail and I did it. We had prepared the Polyjuice Potion beforehand. We journeyed to his house. Moody put up a struggle. There was a commotion. We managed to subdue him just in time. Forced him into a compartment of his own magical trunk. Took some of his hair and added it to the potion. I drank it; I became Moody's double. I took his leg and his eye. I was ready to face Arthur Weasley when he arrived to sort out the Muggles who had heard a disturbance. I made the dustbins move around the yard. I told Arthur Weasley I had heard intruders in my yard, who had set off the dustbins. Then I packed up Moody's clothes and Dark detectors, put them in the trunk with Moody, and set off for Hogwarts. I kept him alive, under the Imperius Curse. I wanted to be able to question him. To find out about his past, learn his habits, so that I could fool even Dumbledore. I also needed his hair to make the Polyjuice Potion. The other ingredients were easy. I stole boom-slang skin from the dungeons. When the Potions master found me in his office, I said I was under orders to search it."

"And what became of Wormtail after you attacked Moody?" said Dumbledore.

"Wormtail returned to care for my master, in my father's house, and to keep watch over my father."

"But your father escaped," said Dumbledore.

"Yes. After a while he began to fight the Imperius Curse just as I had done. There were periods when he knew what was happening. My master decided it was no longer safe for my father to leave the house. He forced him to send letters to the Ministry instead. He made him write and say he was ill. But Wormtail neglected his duty. He was not watchful enough. My father escaped. My master guessed that he was heading for Hogwarts. My father was going to tell Dumbledore everything, to confess. He was going to admit that he had smuggled me from Azkaban.

"My master sent me word of my father's escape. He told me to stop him at all costs. So I waited and watched. I used the map I had taken from Harry Potter. The map that had almost ruined everything."

"Map?" said Dumbledore quickly. "What map is this?"

"Potter's map of Hogwarts. Potter saw me on it. Potter saw me stealing more ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion from Snape's office one night. He thought I was my father. We have the same first name. I took the map from Potter that night. I told him my father hated Dark wizards. Potter believed my father was after Snape.

"For a week I waited for my father to arrive at Hogwarts. At last, one evening, the map showed my father entering the grounds. I pulled on my Invisibility Cloak and went down to meet him. He was walking around the edge of the forest. Then Potter came, and Krum. I waited. I could not hurt Potter; my master needed him. Potter ran to get Dumbledore. I Stunned Krum. I killed my father."

"Noooo!" wailed Winky. "Master Barty, Master Barty, what is you saying?"

"You killed your father," Dumbledore said, in the same soft voice. "What did you do with the body?"

"Carried it into the forest. Covered it with the Invisibility Cloak. I had the map with me. I watched Potter run into the castle. He met Snape. Dumbledore and Barton joined them. I watched Potter bringing Dumbledore out of the castle. I walked back out of the forest, doubled around behind them, went to meet them. I told Dumbledore Snape had told me where to come.

"Dumbledore told me to go and look for my father. I went back to my father's body. Watched the map. When everyone was gone, I Transfigured my father's body. He became a bone… I buried it, while wearing the Invisibility Cloak, in the freshly dug earth in front of Hagrid's cabin."

There was complete silence now, except for Winky's continued sobs. Then Dumbledore said, "And tonight…"

"I offered to carry the Triwizard Cup into the maze before dinner," whispered Barty Crouch. "Turned it into a Portkey. My master's plan worked. He is returned to power and I will be honored by him beyond the dreams of wizards."

The insane smile lit his features once more, and his head drooped onto his shoulder as Winky wailed and sobbed at his side.


	43. Aftermath of a Nightmare Reality

**I must say, you impress me TheHatter. Your detective skills are most accurate on the story line. i'm not going to tell you which, I don't want to spoil the story much. But really, you have my congratulations; you almost figured half the story.**

**Let's carry on, please!**

* * *

_James's POV_

Since I had been a little misfit, I had heard a lot of Albus Dumbledore. First an adventurer, later a warrior, then a teacher, and finally, a mentor and Headmaster of Hogwarts.

The old man had come a great way to become what he is now. I often have heard Voldyshorts was afraid of him. I had snorted at the time and earned a fight with a fifth year Durmstrang student.

But right now… I could see they were right.

The so docile man, "Mr Dumbledore" for Annie, looked downright murderous. If looks could kill… I bet all the guests here would've already dropped dead.

The Professor was looking at Crouch Jr. in disgust – and I didn't blame him. All the pain he receives is what he got deserved. Barty Crouch Jr. had been one of the four to torture Neville's parents. I had read it on the _Prophet_. If Dumbledore had sent me to fetch the Weasleys instead of Neville, how would have he taken all of this? Facing one of the culprits for your parents' insanity, the reason you grew up without a family's love?

Almost imperceptible to the eye, Crouch Jr. met my hateful gaze, his eyes widening. He knew who I was, but the Veritaserum didn't allow him to talk unless asked. I _almost_ sighed in relief.

Dumbledore raised his wand and ropes burst from the end, twisting themselves around the son of a gun, definitely bounding him on place. Once finished, Dumbledore turned to McGonagall.

"Minerva, could I ask you to stand guard here while I take Harry upstairs?"

"Of course," said Professor McGonagall. The usually hard-faced teacher looked slightly nauseous as if Crouch Jr. had threw up on her black robes. The look however disappeared once she reached her wand and pointed it to the bloody man that has complicated more our messed up lives. Lucky her; her hand was quite steady while all I wanted to do was punch him mercilessly on the gut. Or kick him on the bollocks...

"Severus" - Dumbledore turned to Snape - "please tell Madam Pomfrey to come down here; we need to get Alastor Moody into the hospital wing. Then go down into the grounds, find Cornelius Fudge, and bring him up to this office. He will undoubtedly want to question Crouch himself. Tell him I will be in the hospital wing in half an hour's time if he needs me."

Snape nodded silently and swept out of the room.

Dumbledore looked over the rest of us, and I saw him stare at Annie for a moment before his eyes settled on Potter.

"Harry?" he called softly. I looked sideways and – BLOODY HELL! Potter looks like an Inferi!

I figured out the shock of what had occurred today would leave both him and Bunny in some comatose state or similar to that, but not too soon! I mean – even Anne is bloody sleeping!

Harry got up and he hissed, swaying on the place he stood. The gash on his leg was bleeding badly, and I could only assume the adrenaline and the shock of the circumstances had not allowed him to focus on the pain.

His body was shaking. The only thing that was holding him up was the firm hand of Dumbledore on his arm. Said man looked over at me and motioned silently to the sleeping Anya. After I eyed Potter's condition, I unsurely nodded. Annie weighted like a feather, but the hell I wanted to carry Potter around like a ragdoll. A _living dead_ ragdoll.

Once he got Harry into the dark corridor, I made the work to delicately put her on my arms. With all the tons of food she eats, I'm really astonished she still looks lanky.

"I want you to come up to my office first, Harry," I hear the Professor say to Potter. He was whispering, but the man had no idea that I still could hear him clearly as if he was shouting. "Sirius is waiting for us there."

I almost dropped Bunny on the floor.

* * *

_Harry's POV_

I talked monotonously about everything. Sirius and Dumbledore were the perfect listeners, not interrupting once. Although Sirius made little noises when I told them Wormtail was there. Of course it didn't help when I mentioned he pierced my arm with a dagger.

Sirius had let out a bunch of curses in – was that _French_? If it was, then it ran on the family, as Annie did know how to curse in French too.

Dumbledore stood up and quickly walked around his desk until he was standing in front of me. He asked me to show him my arm. The torn robes had glued to the ghastly cut, but it didn't hurt as much like my leg did.

"He said my blood would make him stronger than if he'd used someone else's," I said. "He said the protection my - my mother left in me - he'd have it too. And he was right - he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face."

For a quick instant, I could swear I had seen something similar to triumph shining in Dumbledore's eyes, but it happened too quickly to pinpoint it exactly: his face was set into a warily frown.

"Very well," he said, sitting down again. "Voldemort has overcome that particular barrier. Harry, continue, please."

I explained how Voldemort had emerged from the cauldron and then faltered. There was what Annie's involvement came. What I was supposed to say? That somehow Anya Barton had been on my mind during the entire task and only Voldemort had noticed it? That he got her out of my head with just a mere word?

"Harry?"

Sirius' concerned voice rang through the silent office. It had to be the first understandable word I had heard from him today.

Gulping, I looked down at my lap.

"There's something else," I was quiet, and the two men on the room didn't dare to talk.

"I – I didn't knew. It wasn't until he told me – but, Annie had been there."

"That's impossible!" Sirius said behind me. "I had kept an eye on her all day. She has been with the Weasleys."

"That's why I had thought too," I said quickly. "But then – Voldemort did something and I –"

_Felt empty. Like a part of me had been ripped from me like an old wound._

I didn't say this aloud, but Dumbledore was gazing at me with knowing eyes, like the time I had to explain about the Chamber of Secrets.

Silently, he pulled out something from his robes. It was a large leather notebook.

"Isn't that –?"

The Professor silently turned on pages until he was almost at the end of the book. My breath caught when I saw a sketch of Cedric's death, but then he turned to the next page.

It wasn't coloured like the other images had been. The drawing seemed it had been rushed and smudges of dirt marred the white page. But I almost sobbed at what I was seeing. I was there, on the middle, my wand pointing at the viewer, and on my right shoulder was a pretty woman with long hair. There was no doubt she was my mum. An on my other side, with a hand on my shoulder, a man with dark untamable hair and round glasses stared defiantly at anyone who stared at the page. My dad.

And behind, a golden Phoenix glittered in the background: its large wings extending themselves like curtains of fire. It felt… there was magic – alive that flew around us.

"Please continue, Harry."

I tried to repeat Voldemort's speech to the Death Eaters, and how he untied me and returned my wand, demanding from me to prepare to duel. When I reached the part of where the golden beam of light had connected my wand with Voldemort's, I found out I couldn't speak. Cedric's spirit asking me to return his body… mum and dad… _it was too much_.

Sirius was the one that broke the silence that followed.

"The wands connected?" he asked in disbelief as his eyes darted between us. "Why?"

I looked up at Dumbledore again, on whose face there was an arrested look.

"Priori Incantatem," he muttered.

"The Reverse Spell effect?" said Sirius sharply.

"Exactly," said Dumbledore. "Harry's wand and Voldemort's wand share cores. Each of them contains a feather from the tail of the same phoenix. This phoenix, in fact," he added, and he pointed at the scarlet and-gold bird, perching peacefully on my knees.

"My wand's feather came from Fawkes?" I asked amazed.

"Yes," said Dumbledore. "Mr. Ollivander wrote to tell me you had bought the second wand, the moment you left his shop four years ago."

"So what happens when a wand meets its brother?" said Sirius.

"They will not work properly against each other," said Dumbledore. "If, however, the owners of the wands force the wands to do battle ... a very rare effect will take place. One of the wands will force the other to regurgitate spells it has performed - in reverse. The most recent first… and then those which preceded it…"

He looked questioningly at me, and I nodded, too numb to really speak.

"Which means," Dumbledore said slowly, his eyes upon my face, "that some form of Cedric must have reappeared."

I nodded again.

"Diggory came back to life?" said Sirius sharply.

"No spell can reawaken the dead," said Dumbledore heavily. "All that would have happened is a kind of reverse echo. A shadow of the living Cedric would have emerged from the wand . . . am I correct, Harry?"

"He spoke to me," I was shaking. "The… the ghost Cedric, or whatever he was, spoke."

"An echo," said Dumbledore, "which retained Cedric's appearance and character. I am guessing other such forms appeared… less recent victims of Voldemort's wand…"

"An old man," Harry said, his throat still constricted. "Bertha Jorkins. And… Serena Barton with…"

"Your parents?" Dumbledore said quietly, gazing down at the rough sketch in the desk. I glanced down at it too.

"Yes."

Sirius's grip on my shoulder tightened so much it became painful.

"The last murders the wand performed," Dumbledore nodded. "In reverse order. More would have appeared, of course, had you maintained the connection. Very well, Harry, these echoes, these shadows… what did they do?"

I described the figures emerging from the wand and patrolling the edges of the golden web, how they seemed to cause fear in Voldemort. And then, described how the shadows of my parents and Annie's mother told me what we needed to do, and Cedric's shadow making its final request.

At this point, I couldn't continue. Sirius' hand had left my shoulders and instead, he was hiding his face behind his hands, his shoulders silently shaking. Fawkes had left his position on my knees and had fluttered to the floor. He rested his head on my bleeding leg, and thick, pearly tears were falling from its eyes onto the wound left by the spider. The pain began to web away. The skin mended. My leg no longer felt numb. It was repaired.

"I will say it again," said Dumbledore as the phoenix rose into the air and resettled itself upon the perch beside the door. "You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you tonight, Harry. You have shown bravery equal to those who died fighting Voldemort at the height of his powers. You have shouldered a grown wizard's burden and found yourself equal to it - and you have now given us all we have a right to expect."

We fell in silence.

"What does this sketch has to do in all of this, Dumbledore?" Sirius asked, looking better, but still with a somber expression. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

"You see, Harry did have help after all. What has happened on the graveyard was not solely on his actions. This –" he tapped a finger on the drawing. "– was made by your niece. I believe she likes to call it 'Prediction' book."

Sirius considerably paled. I looked between the two of them until one spoke.

"Is impossible," Sirius sounded hoarse. He was astonished. "This ability – it doesn't belong to –"

" – the Bartons," Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I know. Apparently, Annie had acquired the ability from her aunt. Surprisingly, isn't? When all the Seer energy had belonged to the Rosenbergs during ten centuries."

"How did she manage?"

"I believe, that's not my story to tell," Dumbledore ended quietly. "Harry, you will come with me to the hospital wing. I do not want you returning to the dormitory tonight. A Sleeping Potion, and some peace… Sirius, would you like to stay with him?"

Snapping himself out of his shock, Sirius nodded. He transformed back into the great black dog and walked with us out of the office, accompanying them down a flight of stairs to the hospital wing.

* * *

_James's POV_

After I dropped her on a bed in the Hospital wing, I was going to take a seat when I hear it.

A small subtle whisper calling for me. I knew the rest of the lot in here couldn't hear it, as it was made especially for me.

"_James!"_ the voice called more harshly.

I rolled my eyes. He can't be subtle just one time, doesn't he?

"I'll come back," I whispered to Neville, whom was seated on the other side of the bed. Narrowing his eyes, he nodded. I barely hid a wince. Neville was becoming to analyst in these situations lately.

Thankfully, my exit went unnoticed, as Mrs. Weasley was shouting where Harry was. Annie's sight had left her very perturbed, and both Bill and Ron were trying to quiet her down. Hermione had begun to pace in front of Bunny's bed, too worried about today's events.

Silently, I opened and closed the big oak doors and closed them the same way.

"_James_…" ha! Just what I needed! Now the voice was growling. When will the misery end?

"Yeah, yeah! I'm coming," I harrumphed. "Don't twist your knickers up."

And I walked. And walked. And walked. Almost crossed a pair of sobbing girls from Hufflepuff. And I finally found myself walking to a secluded classroom. The sound stopped, but that didn't end my nerves. I could feel not only him, but three other presences. And I inhaled sharply.

She was there.

The least person I didn't expect to see.

And she was standing right beside my uncle.

Huh, the irony of destiny. How I hated it right now.


	44. The Parting of Ways

_James's POV_

I was seated on a chair, both my arms crossed on my chest. I was sure the scowl I was wearing would only deepen if I continued to hear this lot talk like if I wasn't even in the _bloody_ room.

Even _bloody Snape_ was better than them. He was quiet and staring at me with those black eyes he has. I could almost see the gears working on that head of his. Should he hate me? Or should he not care at all, even if he knows I am related to one of his closest friends?

Sighing in frustration, I hit the armchairs loudly, calling the attention of the other four – besides Snape.

"I already told you," I inhaled exasperatedly. "I didn't do anything that triggered her magic… Well – half of it wasn't my fault…"

"Don't you understand the consequences of this – this behavior?" snapped the tallest woman. Her golden eyes glared at me hard. It didn't face me: I had learned to keep calm while being around Karkaroff. "It could have ended on a catastrophe! She isn't ready for this responsibility! Are you stupid or –"

"Eris, I believe that's enough," the calm voice of the oldest man interrupted, clearly ordering for her to shut up. Light green eyes were kindly staring at me, not wanting me to ran away and let them without answers. "I think James has a right to explain quite himself."

I closed my eyes. Once I opened them I looked over at the corner, where my Uncle sat quietly, waiting for the verdict. As much as he wanted to defend me, he knew his words would be caught in deaf ears, and it hadn't anything to do with his status. I wasn't part of his blood line, as he wasn't of mine. These people were the ones who belonged to my world, _her_ world.

The last, and not less important person, just remained quiet as the discussion took place. She was staring at me with her blue greenish eyes, which were looking practically _through_ me. She knew why I had done it; she would have too, if she had been on my place.

Five set of different eyes waited expectantly for my explanation. Dear lord, I felt as if I was six years old again.

"As I had said before, I didn't do anything wrong." I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, suddenly feeling tired. "I just gave her a little small push to it, that's all."

"Why you –"

It was Snape's glare that made her shut up.

"Mind to lighten us with your knowledge?" he drawled. I kept back my smirk on check.

"You see, I didn't create something that wasn't already there."

"Of course you didn't!" Erin said sarcastically. "Nooooo! You didn't force a mind bond on your own –"

I slammed my hands hardly on the table. The sound echoed roughly on the Dungeons.

"Listen here, lady," I growled. "I didn't coarse Anya Barton to form a bond. In fact, the work was almost half done!"

"What do you mean?" this time was Uncle. He had a weary look on his face, and it hurt to think he didn't have an ounce of trust for me on this.

"What I mean to say –" I looked directly to _her_ eyes. The wide blue gaze was sparkling with green specks on the dark. I didn't look away: I didn't want to hide anymore from her, not now that I have found her. "– is that Anya Barton already had formed a bond with Harry Potter since the moment they saw each other, better you like it or not! And believe it people; it's really strong as I almost puked for the fluffiness of the situation!"

Snape looked like if he couldn't agree more.

* * *

_Anya's POV_

I felt numb. And warm. I didn't want to move… all I wanted was to sleep… snuggle into my comfy sheets…

…But these people couldn't just shut up, couldn't they?

I groggily opened one eye, blinking dazedly because of the blinding white light.

"They'll wake them up if they aren't quiet!" a woman whispered harshly.

"What are they shouting about? Nothing else can have happened, can it?"

I opened my eyes fully. Looking sideways, I noticed Neville looking bewildered at me. I raised one finger to my lips, asking him to be quiet. Still with wide eyes, my friend nodded. I lifted my head a little and saw the screens around my bed had been enlarged so I shared with another bed, in which Harry had been resting. Bill and Mrs. Weasley both were standing at the end of it.

"That's Fudge's voice," she whispered. "And that's Minerva McGonagall's, isn't it? But what are they arguing about?"

I heard yells outside the hospital wing. I winced and rubbed my head. Was I even drunk that my head now hurt with those sounds?

… Nah, it just that the Minister's voice was annoying me right now.

My heart beat fast when Harry's eyes met mine. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and he was trying to blindly focus on me. I grabbed the spectacles from the bedside table and gave them to him. He smiled gratefully and took them. Once I was sure he had them on, I did the same and put my pointing finger to my lips. He gave me a ghost of a smile and nodded.

"Regrettable, but all the same, Minerva -" Cornelius Fudge was saying loudly.

"You should never have brought it inside the castle!" yelled Professor McGonagall. "When Dumbledore finds out -

The doors opened abruptly and three figures advanced in to the ward.

"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded of Mrs. Weasley. Professor McGonagall and Snape were fuming behind him.

What was going on here?

"He's not here right now," Mrs. Weasley replied angrily. "Minister, this is a hospital wing, don't you think it'd be better if you -"

But the doors opened again and Dumbledore swept up the ward, three more persons behind him.

I easily recognized my redhead guardian (which by the way, was wearing a royal blue cloak – that clashed starkly against her hair – with golden linings on it) , but the other two were a complete mystery to me. The tallest of them was a young woman in her mid-twenties or maybe early-thirties. Her hair was cut to the nape of her neck, with blonde highlights surrounding her like a wild mane, momentarily making me glance at Harry's. She was wearing a white button-up blouse and a horse-rider vest, which complimented well with her black trousers and leather brown boots. Her eyes were like those of a cat, a deep rich golden which stared directly over at me. On her neck, she wore a chocker with a locker on it.

The other persona was a man. He was a head taller than Harry (and that's saying something). And old, very old, but not like Mr. Dumbledore. He was slightly fat, but not overweighed. He was wearing beige robes with runes details – like the ones Hermione has worked on Arithmancy. His hair was long and silvery (not like Mr. Dumbledore's), and half of it was tied to a bun on the back of his head with a complicated green ornament – I dare say – the Chinese royalty used. And his eyes were a milky green color.

The conclusion came to me fast. This man was blind: but it intrigued me how he seemed to be staring directly to where I sat.

Natasha briskly walked over the end of my bed, and just stood there. Not talking and not moving. She had clasped her hands in front of her, almost in a stand-like soldier. I blinked owlishly at her, exchanging a bewildered look with Neville.

"What has happened?" said Mr. Dumbledore sharply, looking from Fudge to Professor McGonagall. "Why are you disturbing these people? Minerva, I'm surprised at you - I asked you to stand guard over Barty Crouch -"

"There is no need to stand guard over him anymore, Dumbledore!" she shrieked. "The Minister has seen to that!"

I raised an eyebrow at the situation. The taller woman cocked up an eyebrow in a snarkiest fashion, while the old man just adopted a grim look. Natasha remained emotionless.

"When we told Mr. Fudge that we had caught the Death Eater responsible for tonight's events, he seemed to feel his personal safety was in question. He insisted on summoning a dementor to accompany him into the castle. He brought it up to the office where Barty Crouch -" Said Snape in a low voice.

"I told him you would not agree, Dumbledore!" McGonagall snapped. "I told him you would never allow dementors to set foot inside the castle, but -"

"My dear lady!" Fudge roared, "As the Minister of Magic, it is my decision whether or not I want to bring protection with me when I am interviewing a possibly dangerous -"

Professor McGonagall's voice drowned out Fudge's, however.

"The second that thing entered the office," she screamed, pointing accusingly at Fudge, trembling from head to toe, "it swooped down upon Crouch and - and -"

I looked away. I knew the Dementor had kissed Barty Crouch Jr., but… did it make me a bad person that I felt there had been a little of justice for Neville's parents? I would have wanted him to suffer through all the eternity… except that a Dementor's kiss is worse than death.

"That man, by all accounts, is no loss!" Fudge bellowed. "It seems to me that he is responsible for more than a few deaths."

"Yes, but now he cannot give testimony as to _why_ he had killed those people in the first place. Without Crouch, we have no evidence of his actions," Dumbledore snapped.

That did make me feel guiltier than before.

"Why he'd killed them? These isn't really a mystery there, is there?" Fudge retorted. "The man was a raving lunatic! And from what Minerva and Severus have told me, he seems to believe he has done all this under You-Know-Who's instruction!"

The taller woman rolled her eyes.

"The instructions that drove him to such actions were given to him by Lord Voldemort, Cornelius," Dumbledore told him impatiently. "Those people were killed merely as by-products of Voldemort's plan to restore himself to full strength once more. This plan has succeeded. Voldemort's been restored to his body."

Fudge looked as though someone had just punched him in the face with something heavy. Blinking dazedly, he stared at Dumbledore as though he couldn't quite wrap his mind around what he had just heard. He started sputtering, still goggling Mr. Dumbledore.

"You-Know-Who… has returned? Dumbledore, that is preposterous. Do not joke about such things..."

"Just as Minerva and Severus have doubtless informed you," Mr. Dumbledore said, "we personally heard Barty Crouch confess, under the influence of Veritaserum, he told us how his father smuggled him out of Azkaban and how Voldemort went to free him after he learned of his existence from Bertha Jorkins. He was used to capture Harry. I'm telling the truth when I say their plan his succeeded. Crouch has helped Voldemort return."

"Now, see here, Dumbledore." Fudge said, a small smile beginning to cross his lips, which surprised me, "you cannot seriously believe You-Know-Who has returned, can you? Come on now… certainly Crouch may have disillusioned himself to believe he was acting upon You-Know-Who's orders - but to take his word for it, Dumbledore..."

I noticed Mr. Dumbledore hadn't mentioned my participation on this drama. But, by the way the Minister was reacting, I reckon it is the best decision for the moment.

"When Harry touched the TriWizard Cup tonight, he was transported straight to Voldemort," said Dumbledore steadily. "He witnessed Lord Voldemort's rebirth. I will explain it all to you if you will step up to my office."

Mr. Dumbledore looked over at Harry, and almost instantly, he looked over at me too but returned his gaze on Harry.

"I am afraid I cannot permit you to question Harry tonight."

Fudge's curious smile lingered. How creepy. He too glanced at Harry, then looked back at Dumbledore, and said, "You are - er - prepared to take Harry's word on this, are you, Dumbledore?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. What was that supposed to mean?

The silence was broken by a growling coming from Harry's bed. I looked over at it and found a shaggy black dog baring its teeth at Fudge. My eyes widened. What was Uncle Sirius doing here? Natasha sent a reprimanding look at the dog and he calmed, but stayed on the tense position.

"Certainly, I believe Harry," Dumbledore said. His eyes were blazing now. "I heard Crouch's confession, and I heard Harry's account of what happened after he touched the Triwizard Cup; the two stories make sense, they explain everything that has happened since Bertha Jorkins disappeared last summer."

Fudge still had that creepy smile of his. Once again, he glanced at Harry before answering.

"You are prepared to believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, on the word of a lunatic murderer, and a boy who… well..."

Fudge shot Harry another look, and I understood.

"You have been reading Skeeter, haven't you Minister?" I stated half amused, half angry.

Everyone jumped at my voice. A lot of pair of eyes widened once they glanced at my face. The only ones who remained passive were Mr. Dumbledore, Harry, Professor Snape, Natasha and the two strangers.

Ron was gaping and I think he was going to raise his hand to point at me, but Hermione nudged his side harshly. She too, had been surprised, or so her eyes looked like it.

Fudge reddened a little bit, but a defiant gleam twinkled in his eyes.

"And what if I have?" he demanded. I roamed my gaze up and down and settled on his face, which had only reddened more.

"Our own Minister believing lies," I announced airily. Where was I getting this personality from? "And only because they are written on ink?" I raised an eyebrow. Fudge had the decency to look bashed. I shook my head and bit the urge to 'tut' him. "Pity."

The taller woman snorted and gave a smirk.

Fudge glared at me. "Dumbledore, I have discovered that you've been keeping certain facts about the boy very quiet? A Parselmouth, eh?" I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. I am one too, you blubbering idiot! "And having funny turns all over the place -"

"I assume that you are referring to the pains Harry has been experiencing in his scar?" said Mr. Dumbledore coldly.

"You admit that he has been having these pains, then?" said Fudge quickly. "Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly - hallucinations?"

"Listen to me, Cornelius," Mr. Dumbledore said in a low voice. Waves of power emanated from him. And they weren't positive at all. "Harry is as sane as you or I. That scar upon his forehead has not addled his brains. I believe it hurts him when Lord Voldemort is close by, or feeling particularly murderous."

Fudge had taken half a step back from Mr. Dumbledore, but he looked no less stubborn. I will give that to the man, he really had some balls to stand up against Albus Dumbledore, on a room with twelve wizards whom are _not_ very happy with him.

"You'll forgive me, Dumbledore, but I've never heard of a curse scar acting as an alarm bell before. ..."

"Look, I saw Voldemort come back!" Harry shouted. He tried to get out of bed again, but Mrs. Weasley forced him back. "I saw the Death Eaters! I can give you their names! Lucius Malfoy -" Snape made a sudden movement, but as Harry looked at him, Snape's eyes flew back to Fudge.

"Malfoy was cleared!" Fudge shouted. "A very old family - donations to excellent causes -"

"Macnair!"

"Also cleared! Now working for the Ministry!"

"Avery - Nott - Crabbe - Goyle -"

"You are merely repeating the names of those who were acquitted of being Death Eaters thirteen years ago!" Fudge exclaimed angrily. "You could have found those names in old reports of the trials! For heaven's sake, Dumbledore - the boy was full of some crackpot story at the end of last year too - his tales are getting taller, and you're still swallowing them - the boy can talk to snakes, Dumbledore, and you still think he's trustworthy?"

As each word fell out of his mouth, I could feel myself growing angrier. I had tightly grasped the bed sheets, and almost tear them.

"You fool!" Professor McGonagall cried. "Cedric Diggory! Mr. Crouch! These deaths were not the random work of a lunatic!"

"I see no evidence to the contrary!" shouted Fudge, his face turning a purple shade. "It seems to me that you are all determined to start a panic that will destabilize everything we have worked for these last thirteen years!"

"Who are you trying to kid, sir?" asked the woman. The mirth had cooled down and instead, a stony expression took its place. "There was proof, but you stupidly enough came with the Dementor and left us with a living corpse." She glared at him. "And what about the boy? He couldn't have just dropped dead like that!"

"Listen here Ma'am –"

"No, you listen! Cedric died because he was murdered by Voldemort!" I said loudly. Many flinched for the name but I could care less. How dare he to throw dirt to Cedric's memory!

"Voldemort has returned," Mr. Dumbledore repeated. "If you accept that fact straightaway, Fudge, and take the necessary measures, we may still be able to save the situation. The first and most essential step is to remove Azkaban from the control of the dementors -"

"_Preposterous_!" Fudge yelled. "Remove the dementors? I'd be kicked out of office for suggesting it! Half of us only feel safe in our beds at night because we know the dementors are standing guard at Azkaban!"

"The rest of us sleep less soundly in our beds, Cornelius, knowing that you have put Lord Voldemort's most dangerous supporters in the care of creatures who will join him the instant he asks them!" said Dumbledore. "They will not remain loyal to you, Fudge! Voldemort can offer them much more scope for their powers and their pleasures than you can! With the dementors behind him, and his old supporters returned to him, you will be hard-pressed to stop him regaining the sort of power he had thirteen years ago!"

Fudge was opening and closing his mouth resembling a goldfish. He was too mad, and he was beginning to fell out of excuses.

"The second step you must take - and at once," Mr. Dumbledore pressed on, "is to send envoys to the giants."

"Envoys to the giants?" Fudge shrieked, finding his tongue again. "What madness is this?"

"Extend them the hand of friendship, now, before it is too late," said Dumbledore, "or Voldemort will persuade them, as he did before, that he alone among wizards will give them their rights and their freedom!"

"You - you cannot be serious!" Fudge gasped, shaking his head and retreating further from Dumbledore. "If the magical community got wind that I had approached the giants - people hate them, Dumbledore - end of my career -"

"_Your career_?" I repeated incredulous. "Your _career_?! We are talking of the possibility of another war, and you are worried about your damn _career_?!"

Fudge opened his mouth to retort rudely against me but Mr. Dumbledore beat him to it.

"You are blinded," Dumbledore said, voice rising now. The anger was palpable in the air. "By the love of the office you hold, Cornelius! You place too much importance, and you always have done, on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be! Your dementor has just destroyed the last remaining member of a pure-blood family as old as any - and see what that man chose to make of his life! I tell you now- take the steps I have suggested, and you will be remembered, in office or out, as one of the bravest and greatest Ministers of Magic we have ever known. Fail to act - and history will remember you as the man who stepped aside and allowed Voldemort a second chance to destroy the world we have tried to rebuild!"

"Insane," Fudge whispered, still backing away. "Mad…"

I was staring incredulously at him. Everyone else had gone quiet and was looking over at the Minister with utter disbelief and anger. In fact, I swear I saw the old man – who had been quiet all the time – reach for a wand under his sleeve.

"If you're determined to shut your eyes and let your blind decisions carry you this far, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, "then I think we have reached a parting of ways. You may act as you see fit. And I will do the same."

There wasn't a single hint of a threat in Mr. Dumbledore's voice; in fact, it sounded like it was just a statement, but Fudge bristled as though Dumbledore was advancing on him with a wand.

"Now you see here, Dumbledore," he growled, waving a threatening finger at him. "I have always given you free rein because I've always had a lot of respect for you. I've kept quiet even when there were decisions made that I didn't fully agree with. There aren't many who would have turned a blind eye if you'd hired a werewolf, kept a half-giant, or decided what to teach your students without any reference to the Ministry. But if you're going to work against me -"

"The only man I ever intend to work against is Lord Voldemort," Mr. Dumbledore said softly. "If you are still against him as well, then Cornelius, we remain on the same side."

It didn't appear Fudge could think of any answer to this. He rocked uneasily on his heels for a moment, spinning his bowler hat in his hands. Finally, with a small plea in his voice, he said, "Dumbledore, he can't be back, he just can't..."

"Don't fool yourself, Minister," said Natasha with a tired expression. "We are all afraid. But we must be prepared for what may come before it's too late."

Fudge continued to shook his head as he stared at the red mane of the woman.

Rolling his eyes, Snape angrily strode past Dumbledore toward Fudge, rolling up his left sleeve. He held out his forearm, showing it to Fudge, who flinched.

"There, do you see this?" Snape growled harshly. "Although the Dark Mark is not as clear as it was an hour ago, when it burned black, it is still visible. All the Death Eaters had this sign burned into them by the Dark Lord himself, so each Death Eater can distinguish another from a crowd and so the Dark Lord can summon them to him at any second. He could achieve this by touching the Mark of the nearest Death Eater, causing the others to Disapparate and Apparate, instantly, at his side. My Mark has been growing clearer all year, as has Karkaroff's, which is why he fled tonight. We both felt our Marks burn and we knew he'd returned. Karkaroff fears the Dark Lord's vengeance and he's betrayed too many of the other Death Eaters to be sure he'd be welcomed back into the team."

Natasha stared sadly at the greasy haired man. Her eyes weren't leaving his figure as Fudge began to back away once more. He stared, visibly disgusted by the ugly mark on Snape's arm, then he looked up at Dumbledore and whispered, "I haven't a clue what you and your staff are playing at, Dumbledore, but I think I've heard quite enough. I have nothing else I need to say. I'll be in touch tomorrow, Dumbledore, to discuss how this school is run. I need to return to the Ministry."

He had almost reached the door when he paused. He turned around, strode back down the dormitory, and stopped at Harry's bed.

"Your winnings," he said shortly, taking a large bag of gold out of his pocket and dropping it onto Harry's bedside table. "One thousand Galleons. There should have been a presentation ceremony, but under the circumstances…"

He crammed his bowler hat onto his head and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"God, he looks like he has a stick up to his ass," the taller woman stated. Ron snorted, almost diffusing the tension on the room.

Smiling somewhat, Mr. Dumbledore turned to Mrs. Weasley.

"There is work to be done," he said. "Molly… am I right in thinking that I can count on you and Arthur?"

"Of course you can," Mrs. Weasley nodded. She was white to the lips, but she looked determined to express her loyalty. "We know what Fudge is. It's Arthur's fondness for Muggles that has held him back at the Ministry all these years. Fudge thinks he lacks proper wizarding pride."

"Then I need to send a message to Arthur," said Dumbledore. "All those that we can persuade of the truth must be notified immediately, and he is well placed to contact those at the Ministry who are not as shortsighted as Cornelius."

"I'll go to Dad," said Bill, standing up. "I'll go now."

"Excellent," Mr. Dumbledore nodded. "Tell him what has happened. Tell him I will be in direct contact with him shortly. He will need to be discreet, however. If Fudge thinks I am interfering at the Ministry -"

"Leave it to me," said Bill.

He clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, kissed his mother on the cheek, pulled on his cloak, and strode quickly from the room.

"Minerva," Mr. Dumbledore turned to Professor McGonagall, "I want to see Hagrid in my office as soon as possible. Also - if she will consent to come - Madame Maxime."

Professor McGonagall nodded and left without a word.

"Poppy," Dumbledore said to Madam Pomfrey, "would you be very kind and go down to Professor Moodys office, where I think you will find a house-elf called Winky in considerable distress? Do what you can for her, and take her back to the kitchens. I think Dobby will look after her for us."

"Very - very well," said Madam Pomfrey, looking startled, and she too left.

Mr. Dumbledore made sure that the door was closed and that Madam Pomfrey's footsteps had died away, before he spoke again.

"And now," he said, "it is time for two of our number to recognize each other for what they are, Sirius… if you could resume your usual form."

The great black dog looked up at Dumbledore, then, in an instant, turned back into a man.

Mrs. Weasley screamed and leapt back from the bed.

"Sirius Black!" she shrieked, pointing at him.

"Mum, shut up!" Ron yelled. "It's okay!"

Snape's expression had been the most interesting one. He was mixing between fury and horror. The other three remained stoical to the situation.

"Him!" he snarled, staring at Sirius, whose face just showed the same as Snape's. "What is he doing here?"

And before we all knew it, Snape had tried to jump at Sirius. His wand lifted swiftly to point at Uncle Sirius' forehead. It was almost pandemonium.

Harry started cursing at Snape for his lack of proper politeness; Mrs. Weasley had shrieked and grabbed Ron's arm harshly, making him wince and stop him from gaping. Hermione and Neville were both looking horrified at the scene. The woman and the old man had quickly pulled out their wands and pointed it to Snape.

And then it stopped.

You may ask why –

"STOP ACTING LIKE A PAIR OF BRATS, YOU STUPID DUNDERHEADS!"

…Yeah, something among those lines.

Natasha has stood up and shoved both man away from each other with her bare hands. It was kind of shocking to see her acting like this: normally, Nat wouldn't be angered easily. Annoyed, yes, but never angered.

"You," she angrily pointed at Uncle Sirius but she was looking at Snape. " – he's here because Dumbledore invited him as he did with you. You both are on the same side and – STOP LAUGHING BECAUSE YOU AREN'T A SAINT EITHER!" she yelled when Sirius started sniggering. And then she punched his shoulder.

"Bloody hell, woman!" Sirius grunted as he rubbed the tender spot. A sort of satisfied smirk appeared on Snape's face, but it was brief because it disappeared once Natasha glowered over at him too.

"Now," she growled. "Before I decide to kill you both, you WILL both shake hands for ten seconds without ripping each other's head." And her glare said, _or else._

Everyone seemed to be thinking Natasha was asking for a miracle, but then the two men did as she said. Once they grabbed each other's hands, Snape closed his eyes it what I think was agony while Uncle Sirius looked to the other side, his mouth curling in disgust.

They quickly let go of each other, as if this had been a punishment of the worse.

I seriously wanted to laugh.

"That will do to be going on with," said Dumbledore, stepping between as Natasha returned to the same place, her face set on the passive look from before. "Now I have work for each of you. Fudge's attitude, though not unexpected, changes everything. Sirius, I need you to set off at once. You are to alert Remus Lupin, Arabella Figg, Mundungus Fletcher - the old crowd. Lie low at Lupin's for a while; I will contact you there."

"But -"

"You'll see me very soon, Harry," Sirius interrupted him gently. "I promise you. But I must do what I can, you understand, don't you?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "Yeah… of course I do."

But he still didn't want him to go.

Sirius grasped his hand briefly, then turned to me and placed a small kiss on my forehead, almost not surprisingly, he shared a glance with Natasha, nodded to Dumbledore, transformed again into the black dog, and ran the length of the room to the door, whose handle he turned with a paw. Then he was gone.

"Severus," said Dumbledore, turning to Snape, "you know what I must ask you to do. If you are ready… if you are prepared…"

"I am," Snape said bravely, looking paler than normal even though his cold, black eyes glittered strangely.

And more strangely, Natasha stood up and squeezed his shoulder tightly. He didn't acknowledge her or he was too enwrapped on his mind to really notice.

"Then I wish you good luck," Mr. Dumbledore said, watching with a trace of apprehension on his face as Snape swept soundlessly after Sirius.

"Ms. Carver, Mr. Gramont," Mr. Dumbledore turned lastly to the silent pair, their wands been pocked on their robes long ago.

"You already know the answer, Albus," said Mr. Gramont. He had both his hands put inside his sleeve robes and was wearing a calm look, except his eyes deceived him. Even though the man was blind, the expressions weren't lost at all.

Ms. Carver nodded.

"However, the final decision isn't up to us," she said, her golden eyes meeting mine. I looked over at Natasha, and _I knew_. I knew something had changed. But I was suddenly too tired.

And I just did what my gut told me to.

"We're with you until the end," I whispered.

And then I fell asleep.


	45. Mirror Mirror

_Anya's POV_

_I was powerful._

_I could do anything I wanted._

_And I wanted Bartemius Crouch Jr. _dead_ by my own hand._

_Twirling my wand between my fingers, I paced before the foolish man. He was begging for forgiveness. Forgiveness I wouldn't cede him at all. For me, he could bawl his eyes for hours and hours, yelling desperately for mercy, and I wouldn't have cared._

_He deserved to die. He destroyed my best friend's life by torturing his parents into madness. He was one of the guiltier to weaken my father until he had no more power, leaving him defenseless against Bellatrix._

_It was Bartemius Crouch Jr.'s fault that Neville's and my life was miserable._

_I wanted revenge._

"Crucio_," the word was too soft for someone normal to hear, but it had an incredible power behind it. _

_A twisted smile began to creep up to my face once the screams started. It was like a sweet lullaby for my ears. I closed my eyes in bliss when his screams started to became words. I let the fury course through my veins like if it was my lifesaver. _

_Opening my eyes, I frowned in confusion when I did not saw Crouch. _

_Instead, kneeling in front of me was _Harry Potter_._

_He was mouthing incoherently, his usually emerald eyes that had carefully filled me with warm held hate. _Fear_…_

"_No… _please_…"_

_Tilting my head, I knelt in front of him._

"_What are you doing here?" I asked remorsefully. "You aren't supposed to see this…"_

_I glanced to his body, all covered in crimson blood. His torn robes were letting me see too much of his uncovered skin, but given the circumstances, I couldn't blush at all._

"_In fact, I don't believe you should be on this state…" _

_I raised my hand to touch him. One of my fingers graced his flushed cheek and he flinched away. Frowning, I let my hand fall._

"_Harry," I cradled his face with my hands, but the green eyed boy didn't look at me. "Who did this?"_

_Turning slowly, his sad eyes met mine. He was broken, nothing could hold him anymore. _

_With apparent agony, Harry lifted his hands until they touched my cheeks. He caressed them both softly with his thumbs, and I could feel the warm liquid of blood smearing on them. Placing a chaste kiss on my forehead, he murmured:_

"_It was _you_."_

_Then everything turned black. I couldn't feel Harry's warm presence with me. Nor I could hear Crouch's yells of suffer. I pouted at the darkness. _

_Like a switch, a white light engulfed me. Each time I walked, the light followed. I continued walking, until I found a window._

_Looking at its reflection, a bright smile appeared once I saw who it was in there._

"_Dad!" _

_The young man on the other side of the window mirrored my smile. It seemed he was happy to see me too._

_But what was he doing here? It was my dream after all, and he hadn't appeared on a while, even if I only had seen him on my nightmares. Perhaps he could help me to understand what was happening._

_I opened my mouth to ask him, but I think he was going to ask me too, so I just gave him a small smile and waved a hand to him to continue. He must have thought the same, as he waved his hand at the same time. We both broke into awkward chuckles. People had often said I tended to act like my father when in his youth, and I was seeing the similarities now._

_I continued to smile, all thought of Harry disappearing quickly. Dad did the same, and then I started to notice._

_His eyes weren't hazel like mine were._

_The warm feeling he had radiated on the photos did not seem to be there._

_There was something wrong on this._

_I frowned, and dad once again did the same. I was becoming irritated at him. I knew he would try to joke a little, but it was getting too ridiculous!_

"_Hey!" I yelled… and dad did the same._

_I blinked. The annoyance started to wore off. I could not decide what look to adopt, so I did what I always do when I felt too confused._

_I cleared my face of any emotion. Dad did the same, his face devoid of everything._

_The strange dream then became a nightmare._

_I understood everything._

_And most importantly of all, that man on the window wasn't my father at all. _

_Horrified at this knowledge, I squeaked loudly and brought my hands to my head, my fingers passing through the now wild curls. I grabbed them to a point I was sure I was ripping my hair out._

_Worst of all, the man did the same. His icy blue eyes were wide and the only expression he showed was fear. Something I didn't expect to see at all._

_Gulping, I lowered my arms slowly. Staring at myself defeated, I reached with one hand to my eyes. Touching the soft skin of the dark circles on my eyes, I saw him do the same._

_This had to be a joke. A big joke the destiny had decided to play me. Closing my eyes, I came to a final decision._

_I took one step nearer, my arm raised to it. He was nervously watching every move I made._

_With one arm raised, my fingers touched the cool surface of the crystal. His hand did the same. And we both stood on silence, gazing at each other with cold looks._

_I wasn't looking through a window. I was staring at a mirror._

* * *

I woke up abruptly from the bed. I was gasping: sweat was running down my face, and I could feel the sticky feeling behind my back.

I didn't recognize my bed. Where I was?!

Feeling panicked, I looked wildly around me. The bedspread was tangled on my legs. Above the table at the end of the bed were my wand and some old clothes with patches of fabrics I had sewn this year on the Burrow.

I jumped when I felt a pair of arms surround my shoulders. In reflex, I grabbed them roughly and was going to bite them when I heard a soothing voice talking to me.

"Shh… it's okay, Annie. You're on the hospital wing. Everything is okay… you're okay…"

I slowly relaxed as Harry continued to talk softly near my ear, occasionally rubbing my shoulders for the effect.

Breathing heavily, we both lay there on my bed.

After some minutes, I whispered ruefully, "Shouldn't I be supposed to be comforting you instead of the other way?"

I felt him tense beside me.

"I think… I think is better if you don't do that…" he answered after the silence. I nodded slowly.

"The others…?"

"They were kicked out by Madam Pomfrey."

"I bet Mrs. Weasley didn't take that well," I mused. Harry cracked a smile at how true that sounded.

Disappointed flashed through me when he started to let go of his hold on my body. I wanted him near me, not away. Harry was the only thing that anchored me on this real world.

Thankfully, he didn't move too away from my place. He took a seat beside me on the dirty bed and just stared at his lap.

I noticed he had changed to his school robes, and that the Tournament's uniform had been tossed carelessly on his bedspread. The bag with his winnings of the Tournament was on the same state.

Harry opened his mouth and closed it. Once, twice, until he sighed defeated. Amused, I raised an eyebrow to him.

"You don't have to say anything, you know," I said gently. "I was there, too."

Swallowing, Harry asked, "How?" his voice was hoarse.

Sniffling a little, I grabbed his hand on mine.

"I am not so sure. Not anymore."

We sat on silence. The clouds flew by outside, and the day seemed to darken more with the mood. The only sound I could hear on the magical infirmary was my own harsh breathing, which I hadn't realized was becoming more worked.

"I'm going to see the Diggorys," said Harry with a grim expression.

"Oh," I almost slapped myself for how lame that sounded. Relief flooded through me to find out I was still the same person as before.

_Except for the eyes… _I bitterly remembered_ that._

"I have to apologize to them."

"There's nothing you could have done, Harry," I said softly, letting my head fall on his shoulder.

There was more silence. And I think these types of silences were going to be a very common thing from now on.

"Do you think –?"

"No. We couldn't have changed anything," I interrupted. "It was already set on stone."

He narrowed his eyes.

"You mean to say it was already _drawn_," Harry accused. I sighed.

"Yes."

He sat a few minutes there until he stood up. Grabbing the bag of gold, he walked toward the oak doors.

"Harry,"

He stopped on the door. Half inside, half outside.

"I am glad you are alive."

He nodded, and when he closed the door, I could swear I saw him smile.

* * *

_James's POV_

After an earful from Uncle, another of those annoying lectures from Erin, and a hallway accident with Potter, I arrived to the Hospital Wing to find myself in one of the most compromising situations of my life.

Bunny was changing her clothes.

And she was wearing _nothing_ in the upper part.

It seemed like an eternity until –

"GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!"

Everything under her reach went flying. Sheets, Potter's clothes, empty bottles, bottles with _potions_.

Talking about potions –

BAM!

NOTE TO ALL THE HOGWARTS POPULATION: NEVER EVER, MIX THE RED LIQUID BETWEEN THE PINK ONE. That goes for the ladies!

* * *

_Anya's POV_

"Mr. Leopold, you should have knocked!" chastised Madam Pomfrey.

"OUCH – How was I supposed to know she was changing?"

Satisfied, I watched how James' new pumpkin head scowled over at me. Well, he did deserve it for interrupting _my_ privacy. And besides, I still am horrified about how _much_ did he _see_.

"And shouldn't she have put the screens –"

"I did put them!" I yelled. "But you came and only just pulled them _aside_!"

"Well, I am sorry! Happy?!"

"NO!"

We both continued to argue. Our yells ricocheted from the walls, and echoed up to the ceiling. We had a lot of spectators, and yet, we didn't stop. The only pause we had was when we both said goodbye to Mrs. Weasley, and once she left, the shouts started again.

A while later, Harry returned with Hermione and Ron. The three of them stayed and watched us amusedly as we threw comebacks at each other. Ron and Hermione watched as if this was a tennis game. Even Harry had lost the sour mood and enjoyed the show.

More lately, Neville came with the bat. But he didn't do anything. And so, he joined the trio and just watched too.

For the rest of the evening, I thanked god for giving me a piece of my normal life.

Because I knew nothing would be the same at all.


	46. The Beginning of the End

_Dear Annie,_

_I apologize for my sudden disappearance. But given the circumstances, I had to leave and start making managements for the coven. _

_I know you wanted to question me from what had been happening, but I am sorry to inform you you'll have to wait until summer begins. It is unfair to you, but I ought to say this conversation cannot be written on paper. Is too much important and I fear the Ministry will start rummaging through everyone's mail._

_I can only give you an advice: stay close to your friends_

_Please trust me,  
N. Rosenberg._

_PS. I will come for you outside the barrier on King's Cross._

* * *

"Do you think we'll ever just have a quiet year at Hogwarts?"

James snorted. "Is your school, you both should know by now."

Despite the grave events two weeks ago, the weather didn't continue to be dull and grey. As the month came to an end, the sun shone brightly above the clouds. I would like to often think Cedric was smiling upon us, as his almost brightened the bad mood in every circumstance.

Harry has desolated himself from the world, and his only company had been Hermione and Ron. We continued to talk, but I believe he did forcedly. The both of us couldn't help but always remember _that_ night without seeing each other.

I tried my best to not let everyone see how this affected me. But I think people noticed the change. After all, when has Anya Barton been all cheerily, and worst, when Hogwarts was mourning?

With the help of Professor McGonagall, I was put into an Illusion Charm. No one was supposed to know about my involvement at all, and as the change of color in my eyes was quite obvious, people will become suspicious. Hence this, Mr. Dumbledore requested it to hide it to all the student body. The only ones whom could see the icy color were the caster and myself.

Currently, we didn't have DADA classes, so we had a lot of free time and Neville and I spend a our time outside with James (which he loves, by the way).

"Trolls, three-headed dogs, cursed diaries, dragons… I could keep going on and on, but – it is _Hogwarts_, after all," I announced from where I was resting. The three of us had taken a liking to the Lake, reason why you can find us either talking or sleeping here.

"Yes, you never know what will happen next," said Neville thoughtfully from my left side. "But, if it was normal, it wouldn't be home, after all."

"To believe I thought this place would be boring," James said from my other side.

"Aaahh!" I cooed. "Does that mean you'll miss us?"

"Nope. Only Neville."

"What about Ginny, then?" piped said boy. To my surprise, and to everyone's that are reading this, he blushed. Great Scott! He really blushed! And more brightly than a tomato!

"James likes Ginny, James likes Ginny, James likes Ginny!" Neville and I chanted. Grunting, James turned his back to us.

"_Shuddup_!"

* * *

The final evening on Hogwarts arrived. As much as I tried to avoid it, James convinced me to go this time.

"Believe me, it is worthy," he had said with a grim expression. "And bring something black."

Perhaps it was because I _really_ had been trying to ignore all that I didn't understand why he asked me to wear black, and at the time I didn't question him. But the moment Neville and I entered the Great Hall; I realized with a pang on my heart the _why_.

Instead of the colorful banners of the Houses, I was greeted with _gray_. _Gray_ walls. _Gray_ table clothes. _Gray_ banners. Even the ceiling was a cloudy _gray_. Except for the large banner with the Hogwarts' crest (which was _gray_) behind the teachers table.

I realized sadly, this was their way to pay respect to Cedric Diggory.

James was waiting for us with the rest of the Weasleys, the twins' friend Lee Jordan, Hermione and Harry. Each of them was wearing a black tie like me. Minus James: the snarky boy was wearing a black suit, and for once, he didn't make an _obvious_ comment.

Mr. Dumbledore stood up, and if the Great Hall had been rather quiet before, it seemed that every soul had quieted down.

"The end of another year," he said slowly as his eyes swept around the Hall until they settled on the Hufflepuff table. There had to be the saddest of all of this, and I felt remorse because I hadn't thought of them at all. They had known Cedric longer than all of us. I didn't even hear of him until Oliver Wood had declared him a public menace for his win!

"There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight," Mr. Dumbledore continued, "but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here," he gestured toward the Hufflepuffs, "enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Cedric Diggory."

As one, all the students and teachers stood, the benches scraping as we got up. We all raised our goblets, and echoed, in a single, low, rumbling voice, "Cedric Diggory."

Through the crowd, I spotted Cho standing by the Ravenclaw table. Tears poured steadily down her face and she was sniffling. Once again, I felt remorse. Before, I had been jealous of her, but now… I felt ashamed…

"Cedric was the kind of person that exerted many of the qualities distinguished by Hufflepuff House," Mr. Dumbledore announced softly. "He was a kind and loyal friend, a hard worker, and he placed a high value on fair play. His death has no doubt affected you all deeply, whether you personally knew him or not. Therefore, I think you all have the right to know the exact cause of death."

I snapped my head towards him. Was he –?

"Cedric Diggory was murdered by Lord _Voldemort_."

I think someone actually swooned. Panicked whispers – almost yells – swept the Great Hall. I looked around quickly, seeing many of the students staring at Dumbledore in horrific disbelief. He watched them with a perfectly calm expression as they slowly muttered themselves back into silence.

"The Ministry of Magic had not wished for me to inform you of such a thing," Dumbledore continued once more. "I know it's possible some of your parents will be furious that I have told you, either because they think I shouldn't tell students so young as you or because they do not want to believe Lord Voldemort has actually returned. However, I believe that telling a lie is not the presumable way of handling such situations, and that attempting to pretend Cedric died from some bizarre accident would be a great insult to his memory."

Except for Malfoy and his apes, every single student (albeit frightened and seeming reluctant to) focused all their attention on Mr. Dumbledore.

"There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Cedric's death," Mr. Dumbledore went on. "I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter."

A kind of ripple crossed the Great Hall as a few heads turned in Harry's direction.

"Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort," said Mr. Dumbledore. "He risked his own life to return Cedric's body to Hogwarts. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him."

Like Mr. Dumbledore, I raised my goblet towards him and murmured his name. Everyone followed suit, except for all the Slytherins.

Once everyone had resumed their seats once more, Dumbledore continued on with his speech, "The aim of the TriWizard Tournament was to promote magical understanding between the nationalities and now, in the wake of Voldemort's return to power, such ties between our schools is more important than ever it was before."

Mr. Dumbledore turned his gaze from Madame Maxime and Hagrid, to Fleur Delacour and the other Beauxbaton students, to Viktor Krum and the Durmstrangs at the Slytherin table. All of them – even James – wore a weary expression, as if waiting for a verdict from our Headmaster.

"Every guest in this hall tonight," Mr. Dumbledore said, his eyes lingering on the Durmstrang students, "is welcomed back here at Hogwarts at any time they wish to come. I will say this once again to you all - in light of Lord Voldemort's resurrection we are all only as strong as we are united and as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift of spreading discord and distrust is very great. We will be able to fight it only if we show an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing if our goals are identical and our hearts open."

James sagged in obvious relief. Ginny rubbed his shoulder soothingly.

"It's my belief that we're all facing dark and difficult times ahead. A few of you here in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort himself. Many of your families could have been torn apart already. And yet just a week has passed since we have lost a student..."

"And remember Cedric, remember him how he was. Remember, should the time come when you have to make the choice between what is right and what is easy, remember the fate of the boy who was good, kind, and brave, because he strayed across Lord Voldemort's path. Remember Cedric Diggory."

* * *

I snapped shut my trunk. Sighing, I realized I had already packed everything: from my posters of Paramore and _the Holyhead Harpies_ to my books and robes. Caleb was fast asleep on his small cage, and besides it, rested Billy the bunny.

Feeling alone (Hermione has already left), I grabbed it and walked over to the middle. Five sets of beds with each of them our initials glared at me. 'HG', 'LB', 'PP', one empty bed that didn't seem to be habituated at all, and mine 'AB'.

"So this is it?" I said out loud. "What do you think? Are we ready for another adventure?" I turned down to look at the plush toy.

It remained silent as the room.

* * *

Everyone was saying goodbye to their friends, and to Beauxbaton and Durmstrang students. I caught a glimpse of Fleur Delacour leaving her best wishes to Harry and smiling to Ron. Hermione was scowling at her, and I couldn't help but chuckle. Didn't she remember Fleur was a Veela, or what?

Shaking my head, I came to stop at Neville's side.

"What are you going to do this summer?" I asked.

Jumping, Neville looked at me in surprise.

"Well – I suppose I will be with my Gran."

I blinked. "That's it?" he nodded. "Neville, you haven't anything else to do? Go to somewhere, or –"

"– Neville, my dear friend, I would recommend you to start wooing the ladies. Believe me, that innocent face of yours will attract them like mosquitos!"

Rolling our eyes, we both moved a little aside as James put himself on the middle between us.

"The only mosquito here is you," I muttered.

"And Romilda Vane, it seems," Neville pointed out to a pillar. A second year girl with long curly black hair was staring from a pillar to where Harry, Hermione and Ron sat. And she was making goo-goo eyes at Harry. Though, she blushed brightly when she noticed the three of us staring at her. With a small wave at James, she disappeared as quickly as lightning.

"Why do we always seem to attract strange people?" I wondered. Both boys shrugged as we approached the trio.

"Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back," Ron was saying. "D' you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?"

James scoffed as we heard a voice say, "Karkaroff did not steer. He stayed in his cabin and let us do the vork."

"Now you all know why Karkaroff was a son of a –"

"James!" called a voice interrupting him. Something red hit me on the face, and next we all knew, Ginny Weasley was dragging away a bewildered James.

Neville smiled knowingly. "I better watch out if I were you, Ron."

"Wha –"

"Meaning you are going to beat him –" I pointed to the happy pair. Ginny seemed to be giving James a scroll and he in turn gave her a tiny bit of parchment. Surprising us, she jumped and gave him a hug. It was hilarious to see him gaping. "– to death." And for the dramatic effect, I pulled my hand into a gun and mouthed 'PUM'.

Ron frowned. Trying to figure it out, he didn't even notice Viktor Krum steer Hermione away.

"One would think he would understand this," Neville said smiling.

"But it is Ron, after all," Harry agreed.

Someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around and saw James.

"I already said goodbye to her," he started. Frowning, he scratched the back of his head.

"So, this is goodbye?" I nodded sadly. I may have known him for a short time, but I was going to miss him dearly. Even if he was a pain to me sometimes, this boy helped me a lot when he wasn't aware of it.

Except… there was this strange light on his eyes that I didn't like one bit.

"It is goodbye… right?" I stepped away from him, warily.

James smirked.

"It was nice to meet you, Potter," he shook Harry's hand, the smirk still on place. He turned to Neville. "Mate, I will write to you."

"Good to know," Neville commented.

"Oi… you didn't answer," I complained.

"Well Bunny, haven't you heard that little quote – what was it? Oh, yes!" he snapped his fingers. James was walking backwards, and I followed him closely. "'Is never a goodbye, only a see you later', or something like that."

"What do you mean?" I exclaimed. "Wait – _James_! Don't you dare to let me here!"

With a joyous laugh, James ran away from us. And I followed him close.

Last thing I heard from Neville was, "Here we go _again_."

* * *

_Harry's POV_

"Very clever, Granger," Draco Malfoy said. Flanking him as always, were Crabbe and Goyle. The three of them looked more smug an arrogant than before.

"So, you caught some pathetic reporter, and Potter's Dumbledore's favorite boy again. Big deal."

His smirk widened and behind him, Crabbe and Goyle leered at us.

"Are you trying not to think about it, then?" Malfoy asked softly, looking around the compartment. "Are you trying to pretend it hasn't actually happened?"

"Get out," I snapped.

Since I last saw him whispering to Crabbe and Goyle when Dumbledore made his speech regarding Cedric, I had been itching to punch him on the face. It sounded better than hexing him to oblivion, but just in case, I snatched my hand into my robes, the thin familiar wood settling perfectly on my palm.

"You've picked the losing side, Potter! I warned you! I told you you ought to choose your company more carefully, remember? When we met on the train, first day at Hogwarts? I told you not to hang around with riffraff like this!" He jerked his head at Ron and Hermione. "Too late now. Potter! They'll be the first to go, now the Dark Lord's back! Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers first! Well - second - Diggory was the f-"

Then everything exploded. I was reminded of the time I went to Annie's house; like that time, I couldn't see anything past the thick smoke, except hear the deafening yells on the tiny space. Bangs ricocheted on the walls, and when it all stopped, I had to look down.

The three Slytherins lay unconscious on the floor, each of them looking worse than before. The smoke was still surrounding us, Hermione coughed roughly.

"_Aeris_," someone whispered.

In an instant, the smoke flew to one side and we all saw each other's faces.

Fred and George had their wands pointed at the floor; besides George, Neville had his wand out too, and was possibly looking shocked that his spell had worked; at the head of Malfoy, Annie was pointing her wand to the roof, and the smoke suddenly went to her wand and absorbed it like Aunt Petunia's vacuum cleaner.

"Thought we'd see what those three were up to," said Fred matter-of-factly, stepping onto Goyle and into the compartment.

"We both just found you," Neville cleared. "And we found Malfoy –"

"– and that was all we needed to know that we found you," Annie finished.

"Interesting effect," said George, looking down at Crabbe. "Who used the Furnunculus Curse?"

"Me," I mumbled.

"Odd," said George lightly. "I used Jelly-Legs. Looks as though those two shouldn't be mixed. He seems to have sprouted little tentacles all over his face. Well, let's not leave them here, they don't add much to the decor."

Ron, George and me kicked the trio until they rolled to the corridor, and we all sat on the compartment.

"Exploding Snap, anyone?" asked Fred, pulling out a pack of cards.

They were halfway through their fifth game when I remembered something.

"You going to tell us, then?" I said to George. "Who you were blackmailing?"

"Oh, _that_."

"It doesn't matter," Fred said, shaking his head impatiently. "It wasn't anything important. Not now, anyway."

"We've given up," shrugged George.

"Oh, come on, you can tell us," Annie said in a rather melodious voice. I almost gaped, but thankfully nobody noticed. "After all, haven't you both said it wasn't important anymore?"

Fred's lip twitched slightly. I wasn't the only one who noticed the change. Neville was staring at Annie as if trying to figure it out.

"All right," Fred sighed. Annie didn't blink, but there was a glint of triumph in her altered eyes, "all right, if you really want to know… it was Ludo Bagman."

"Bagman?" I turned sharply to them, all change on Annie forgotten. "Are you saying he was involved in -?"

"Nah," said George gloomily. "Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."

"Well, what, then?" Ron asked annoyed.

Fred hesitated, then said, "You remember that bet we had with him at the Quidditch World Cup? About how Ireland would win, but Krum would get the Snitch?"

"Yeah," we said slowly. Neville was blinking confusedly between all of us.

"Well, the git paid us in leprechaun gold he'd caught from the Irish mascots."

"So?"

"So it vanished, didn't it? By next morning, it had gone!" Fred snapped.

"But - it must've been an accident, mustn't it?" said Neville. Hermione nodded enthusiastically beside me.

George laughed very bitterly.

"Yeah, that's what we thought, at first. We thought if we just wrote to him, and told him he'd made a mistake, he'd cough up. But nothing doing. Ignored our letter. We kept trying to talk to him about it at Hogwarts, but he was always making some excuse to get away from us."

"In the end, he turned pretty nasty," said Fred. "Told us we were too young to gamble, and he wasn't giving us anything."

"So we asked for our money back," said George glowering.

"He didn't refuse!" gasped Hermione.

"Right in one," said Fred.

"But that was all your savings!" Ron exclaimed.

"Tell me about it," George sighed. "'Course, we found out what was going on in the end. Lee Jordan's dad had had a bit of trouble getting money off Bagman as well. Turns out he's in big trouble with the goblins. Borrowed loads of gold off them. A gang of them cornered him in the woods after the World Cup and took all the gold he had, and it still wasn't enough to cover all his debts. They followed him all the way to Hogwarts to keep an eye on him. He's lost everything gambling. Hasn't got two Galleons to rub together. And you know how the idiot tried to pay the goblins back?"

"How?" Annie asked, slightly looking interested.

"He put a bet on you, mate," Fred nodded at me gloomily. "Put a big bet on you to win the tournament. Bet against the goblins."

"So that's why he kept trying to help me win!" I exclaimed. It all actually fit in! "Well - I did win, didn't I? So he can pay you your gold!"

"Nope," George said, shaking his head. "The goblins play as dirty as him. They say you drew with Diggory, and Bagman was betting you'd win outright. So Bagman had to run for it. He did run for it right after the third task."

George sighed deeply and started dealing out the cards again.

* * *

_Anya's POV_

Too soon for my taste, the Hogwarts Express arrived at King's Cross. I wished there was more time to spend with my friends, but I too wanted to get away from all this drama.

Following Hermione and Ron outside – and trying to not get hit with their trunks – Neville and I sneaked to where all the trunks were usually put.

"Unbelievable," I muttered as I held Caleb's cage. "Hours travelling – and you still are _asleep_!"

Neville chuckled as he clutched Trevor on another cage. "I wished Trevor was that way," he said fondly.

"Well, your toad is just a bachelor," I waved a hand, dismissing it. "He likes his freedom too much for his own good. And this little one," I pointed at my owl, "he's too lazy for even trying that."

"Neville!" a woman's voice called.

Turning around, I saw an old woman looking sternly all over the station. I had to blink a lot of times to see if I was not seeing hallucinations. Neville didn't exaggerate one bit when he put some exotic clothes on Boggart Snape on our third year. In fact, the woman was wearing the very same vulture hat that he had imagined.

"That's my Gran," Neville sighed. "I better go."

I nodded and stepped to give him a hug. Awkwardly, he did the same.

"Write to me, okay?" I mumbled on his shoulder.

"Count on it," he told me. With a last wave, he disappeared through the crowd.

When I passed through the barrier, I quickly distinguished Harry's uncle and Mrs. Weasley (whom was standing a few feet away) and hugging Harry.

Once I was beside Hermione, Ron clapped his back saying, "See you, Harry."

"'Bye, Harry!" said Hermione, and she did something she had never done before, and kissed him on the cheek.

"Harry - thanks," George muttered, while Fred nodded fervently at his side. I raised an eyebrow at the strange behavior, but then dismissed it as it was my turn.

"Hope to see you soon, wonder boy," I whispered when hugging him. And like Hermione, I kissed his other cheek. My lips lingered there for a few seconds until I stepped away. No one noticed my slip.

After saying goodbye to all the Weasleys and Hermione, I went to sit to a bench to wait for Natasha.

"Bye Anne!" Dean Thomas yelled from across the platform. He was waving energetically his arm. His mother slapped his hand down once she noticed everyone was looking at him with scolding gazes.

Smiling, I waved back.

After that, I became bored. Minutes passed… and still, Natasha didn't arrive. Tapping my foot against the pavement, I watched as a family of four walked by. The father had his son on his shoulders while the mother had their baby on her arms. They were all smiling.

Would it end? What change would bring Voldemort's return? The Muggles weren't aware of the Wizarding World, and our wars would probably damage any normalcy they knew.

And as I remember now… what would his return meant to me?

The dream with the mirror – it had been Tom Riddle whom I saw there. It wasn't my dad at all. This thought only added my want to question. Why dad looks like Riddle? They obviously aren't the same person. Could it be they are related?

The mere answer held too many secrets to reveal. It all made my head hurt.

Someone tapped my shoulder, making me sigh in relief.

"Hey, what took you so –"

I froze.

It wasn't Natasha like I expected.

"_Professor_?"

**TO BE CONTINUED…**

* * *

Wait for Anya and her friends' next adventure.

**_Anya Barton Book Five: Just One More Lie_**


	47. IMPORTANT ANNOUNCE!

**Dear Readers:**

**I have to gravely inform you all that it's going to be a while to get started on the next book. Believe me, I have a lot of ideas with OotP and with some evil toad-faced woman and snake-face lurking around... NO! I will not tell!**

**But what I really wanted to say was that I was going to remake the first two books (and possibly the third). **

**I have been reading them a lot, and I kind of felt I just _added_ a character into the story. I mean - I would probably let the two boks end the same - but I want to put _feelings__on it. _More background as to_ why_ Anya ended in the Orphanage, or_ deepen _her relationship with all the characters - like Ron or her hatred toward Malfoy in the beginning.  
**

**I am not going to change_ The Masks We Wear_ because I liked it too much. Maybe a little rewrite of chapter here and there, but that would be all.**

**Sorry if this bothered some of you. **

**I hope you all understand.**

**Hope to write sooner,  
****crossMirage19 off.****  
**


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